Silence fell above them as the squad made their way towards the building Alpha Team was supposed to secure. After the successful rescue by air support, they were quick to move onward, and by Ghost's words, 'they have wasted enough time'.

Rora was deep in her thoughts, trying to shake off the memory when he stood in front of her, looking at her like she was the biggest disgrace to society, but there was no man in the world that could make her feel any less than she knew she was worth.

She knew that it was stupid to run in the field with one single rocket, but she did it in hopes of saving her squad. But Ghost was treating her like a fucking child who did something wrong, and it pissed her off.

A loud bang and the soldier dropping on her right caused her to snap out of her thoughts.

„Man down!" she screamed, crouching down in an instant, trying to conceal herself in the semi-tall grass.

She scooted over to the soldier, pressing two fingers to his neck, waiting for any pulse, but after a few moments of waiting, she was sad to acknowledge that there was none.

„More snipers on the roof, take them down!" Ghost yelled over to Soap, who was already on his stomach, lying in the grass, scoping down the AQ snipers from the rooftop. Rora wanted to help so bad, but she and the sniper still weren't friends, so she left it to Soap.

Another shot was fired by an AQ sniper, the bullet landing in front of her by a few inches, causing her to curse under her breath as she tried to stay low on the ground, a few small rocks digging into her arms while doing so.

„How the fuck are they seeing us?" the man from her left asked, his voice agitated.

„AQ's got night-vision! We're sitting ducks out here."

„Soap, keep us covered, we're moving up!" the lieutenant ordered, coming to his feet and being the first to move towards the house they were getting shot from.

„AQ's dug in here" Soap groaned, firing another shot. She watched as a body fell from the edge of the building. „Whatever they're defending it's fucking big!"

The thought of Hassan not even being in the building anymore came to her mind, but she was quick to shake it off. He had to be in there, otherwise, this whole ordeal was for nothing, and the AQs were definitely defending something important. They wouldn't die for nothing.

„7-6!" Ghost called to the soldier behind him. „I want fire on that building now!"

Both Soap and Rora looked at him, the former in disbelief, the latter in surprise. She thought she was the irrational one in the group, making rushed decisions.

„Ghost, we don't know if Hassan's in there!" the Scotsman protested.

„They're forcing our hand! 7-6, hit that building, but don't level it," Ghost said to Kilo through the comms, sending a look to Soap.

The man in front of her, 7-6 reached for the radio, directing his words to the air support.

„Kilo0-1. Call for fire. Target is in the building ahead of us. Do not level the building."

„7-6, copy that, making our run," Kilo replied in an instant, flying by their heads in an instant, realizing a few lethal explosions to the building.

There was something beautiful about the explosions, something that scratched a specific part of her brain perfectly. She thrived in chaos, always found something warming about the way things could go downhill in an instant, enjoying the thrill of action. But her favorite things were always the things that could destroy things, like explosives, rockets, grenades, and her own mind.

„Thank Christ for air support," Soap sighed as he watched the flames, placing his sniper back on his back.

„Yeah, it's pretty cool," Rora replied in awe, not being able to take her eyes off the building, or more like what remained.

„Yeah, hope Hassan's still in one piece..." the man on her left remarked, the edge of his voice not going unnoticed by her ears. She was ready to throw hands at this point: he should've been grateful for going out of their way to keep all of them alive.

„Several pieces will do. Easier to find that way..." Ghost grumbled, getting up from the ground, and with soft but quick steps he made his way toward the building. Rora snorted at his remark.

„Wow, Big Ghost Boy has humor," she teased, falling in his steps, not missing the death glare she received above his shoulder, her grin widening at the sight of annoyance. God, she loved to be a pain in the ass.

„All Bravo, move up, I want this building locked down. Soap, make entry. Let's find Hassan. Dead or alive."

Rora wouldn't mind if they would find Hassan dead at this point. She didn't like when people made her life harder, and right now their target did just that. A remark burned the tip of her tongue, eager to get out, but she swallowed it, not being to keen on pissing her lieutenant off more, she wanted to wait with that another ten minutes, preferably.

Closing up on the third building, Ghost looked at her over his shoulder, gesturing towards the other side of the door, him taking cover at the right side, and letting Soap be the one to enter the building first.

Despite the silent cry her shoulder released at the sudden movement of propping her rifle against it, giving cover to the Scottish sergeant, she let her eyes wander to the man squatting in front of her. Maybe her mind played tricks on her, or she hit her head a little harder than she thought, but he reminded her of her ex-boyfriend so much as he propped his shoulder against the wall, eyes scanning the field they just came from, in case there were still AQs remaining.

„7-1, moving interior," Soap affirmed softly, not wanting to blow their cover by being too loud.

„7-2, following behind," Rora said, him giving her a small nod of acknowledgment. After witnessing one of her old squad members getting absolutely demolished because she wasn't there behind them to cover them, she went out of her way to provide extra cover.

Just as he stepped over the threshold, Rora stepped behind him, scanning the room next to them, left and right. And at that exact second, a sharp yell of unfamiliar words hit her ears, causing her to point her rifle toward the hallway Soap was strolling towards, seeing that as an AQ soldier emerged from the ruins of a room, holding a grenade in his hand, ready to throw it at them.

„Shit," she hissed under her breath, squeezing her trigger, firing two shots at the man. But it was too late, he had already pulled the pin out of the grenade, it ready to explode at any second as it rolled towards them.

Without any words, Soap grabbed her arm, pushing her in front of him, directing her to the door, his push being a little more aggressive as he tried to get her out of the way as soon as possible.

Just as the two of them pushed their backs against the exterior wall, the grenade went off, the explosion shaking her to her core. Her eyes caught Ghost's, his eyes holding something that she couldn't read, pursing her lips together as she glanced over the doorframe.

The grenade didn't cause too much damage, although the roof seemed to be weaker, her eyes scanning it with careful eyes, waiting for it to collapse. Since it only creaked once, staying in its place, Ghost was the first this time to move inside, Soap following behind him.

„Check the bodies. We need positive ID on Hassan," the lieutenant ordered, pushing inside to search for bodies.

Soap stepped to the man she just shot down, pushing him to his back to check his face. There was a permanent angry expression etched on his face, his eyes staring up at the ceiling void of all life, blood puddling under his body.

„Negative on Hassan," Soap cleared, not wasting any more time on the body, stepping over it to check the other rooms.

They checked the first deck, only finding two more AQs, killing them both in the process, but to her dismay, none of them happened to be Hassan.

Rora wandered off on her own, searching the more hidden areas, looking inside closets, and seeking out other places where somebody could hide. She was determined to pick this whole place apart, brick by brick if it meant finding Hassan, but with each empty room greeting her back, her hope and patience started to turn into frustration more and more.

She didn't hear the others anymore, assuming that they were still checking the bodies in the other parts, and she let out a frustrated sigh, kicking a dropped and abandoned empty magazine with her foot, it clinking against a brick a foot away.

Letting her rifle dangle from her shoulder, giving it a little bit of a break, she circled with her head, trying to ease the tension in her neck, repeating inside her head over and over again why she agreed to do this.

You had nothing out there, in here, you can at least be somewhat useful.

Price needs you.

That was the fucking point: her coming to help Price with the mission, but as it turned out, he was on another mission somewhere in Europe, and it looked like he wouldn't join her for a while. She felt like a fool, but it was too late to back down now: she was far too deep in this mission, being more invested than she thought she would be. But if she had a chance, she would probably run away from the skeleton-masked giant.

A small creak of a floorboard snapped her out of her thoughts, all of her muscles tensing at the faint sound. It came from behind a wall, that looked like it could collapse at any given moment, the door halfway ripped from its hinges, the floor littered with broken furniture and debris. Without her night vision goggles, she could still see somewhat okay, and if it came to hand-to-hand combat, she would rather not have it hinder her in the process.

She pulled her rifle in front of her chest, soundlessly strolling towards the open hallway, all of her senses sharpening, seeking her prey like a jaguar in the wild.

But just as she stepped a foot out from the room, her rifle was smacked out from her hand, the strap yanking on her injured shoulder, earning a hiss from her. The rifle landed on the floor with a loud bang.

It came second nature to her to reach for the pistol secured on her right thigh, her back slamming into the wall next to her. She tightened her grip on the handgun, jamming it into the side of the person who ambushed her, her finger already on the trigger when she felt the cold blade of a knife pressing into the soft skin of her neck.

Rora gritted her teeth as she felt it press harder against her, feeling like it was already cutting her skin when her eyes met with the ones of the attacker.

There was black smudged war paint around his eyes, concealing his identity furthermore, bringing his eyes out more. The skull-printed mask was the only thing she recognized, her breath hitching in her throat at the sight of it, but she had to crane her head back a little to look up at him, his tall figure towering over her.

Both of them seemed frozen in the moment, just staring into each other's eyes for what felt like hours, and she tried to ignore the feeling that stormed inside her chest by the way his body was pressing against hers.

It was too dark to say for sure, but she was 73% sure that his eyes were brown. She let herself fall into them, staring back at him soundlessly, almost forgetting about the blade pressing against her throat, ready to end her life with a swift motion.

But her eyes wandered from his eyes to the skull print, causing her hand to unconsciously press the barrel of the pistol harder against his side, where the cevlar wasn't protecting his abdomen anymore. Her pistol was angled in such a way that she was sure she could cause bad enough damage to his insides that it would be questionable if he would be able to recover from it.

Both of them could easily kill each other, and it gave her such a rush she didn't experience in a long time.

„Nice eyes, Lt.," the words rolled off her tongue like a spell, a small smirk playing on her lips, it being one of her signature ones.

His eyes swiftly shifted from her eyes to her lips, a low rumble leaving his throat as he retrieved his knife from her neck, taking a step back in hopes that the weird air from around them would disappear.

„Price was wrong. You're so fucking loud, you'll wake up the dead," he remarked, his accent somehow making his words almost as sharp as his knife. She narrowed her eyes at him, her back remaining against the wall.

„Says the one who blew his cover by creaking the floor," she said, straightening her back.

„That was a warning," he cocked his head to the side, in an almost predatory way as he looked back at her, his hand gesturing towards the rifle on the ground. „If it's not me, you're already dead. You won't be this lucky next time."

Her grip tightened around the pistol in her hand, frustration flowing in her blood, reaching all of her pores. Of course, she was caught off-guard, and she learned her lesson that she should not let her thoughts control her during a mission, but he didn't have to rub it in her face like that.

And even though she knew he was right, she would die sooner than admit that a man was right about her.

So, she chose the coping mechanism she knew the most, the slightly flirty one to deal with the situation.

„Having a chat with you always makes me feel lucky," she forced a smile on her lips, her voice much more cheery than it would belong to the scene.

„Ghost?" a voice called from further away, the Scottish accent being a dead giveaway that it was Soap who came looking for them. She reckoned he heard the loud crash her rifle made against the hardwood floor.

They held each other's gaze for a few more moments. Her heartbeat quickened under the weight of his gaze, her pride and arrogance not letting her eyes move away from his, because she never backed down. There was no way she would bow for a man, even if that man looked like the Grim Reaper himself, possessing the power of being able to kill her with a single hand.

Just as Soap's footsteps came closer, Ghost was the one to break the eye contact, turning his back to her, strolling towards the other sergeant.

„Learn to stick with the group," were his last words to her, before he left her in the dark hallway with her thoughts.

She huffed out a breath, moving away a few strands that managed to escape from her tight bun, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her.

He's not here. He's dead. This is not him.

„Fucking asshole," she scolded herself as she pushed herself off the wall, reaching down to retrieve her rifle, ignoring the dull pain pulsating in her shoulder and the thin streak of blood that seeped from the small gash on her neck as she hurried after Ghost.

Not long after their little incident in the hallway, they continued to clear the second deck. Hearing some footsteps behind one of the doors, Ghost waited in front of it, and just as a man, similar to the way Rora did, emerged from the room, he was quick to take his life, shooting him once in the chest, once in the head.

She watched his body fall to the floor, slightly impressed by the way he killed with such grace and smoothness, ignoring the pointed look he sent her, like he said yeah, could've been you there dead. She flicked her eyes back to him, seeing that he was already moving forward, not spearing any more looks her way.

„What a show-off," she muttered, stepping after him.