Trigger Warning:
This chapter contains scenes of gun violence, injury, blood, and emotional distress. Please read with caution.
———
Third Person's POV
Micquel suddenly halted mid-step when a gunshot cracked in the distance—sharp and unmistakable.
"Damn," she muttered, instincts on high alert.
Before she could react, something slammed into her back—hard.
The impact stole the breath from her lungs. It felt like a burning fist had punched straight through her spine. Her knees buckled as every nerve went numb. She didn't even have time to scream.
She collapsed face-first onto the ground, dust rising gently around her motionless form.
"You've gone too far, Draven!" Sathia's voice rang out, full of fury and disbelief. "She's part of our group—why did you shoot her?! You let your temper get the best of you again!"
Sathia rushed forward, skidding to her knees beside the fallen figure.
"Miss? Miss!" she called out, gently tapping the woman's shoulder. No response. Her breathing was shallow. Blood soaked the back of her coat.
Then the scarf covering the lower half of the woman's face shifted with the wind.
Sathia's eyes widened.
Her hand trembled as she brushed away strands of dark hair—and froze when she saw the face beneath.
"Micquel…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as the truth hit her like a second bullet.
---
Flashbacks: Eleven Months Ago
Red Team's Main Safe Zone – Weapon Room
Hermione stepped into the dimly lit room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The scent of oil and gunpowder lingered in the air. Along the walls, weapons hung in precise rows—tools of survival, and now, a desperate mission.
"You're really going through with this?" Hermione asked, her voice low but tense. "What if it's a setup? You really believe the Yellow Team is just going to hand over the coordinates to where Sathia and the others are being held?"
Miracle didn't bother turning around. She adjusted the strap on her gear pack with mechanical precision. Her fingers were steady, but her eyes were shadowed with determination.
"If you're scared, don't come," Miracle said coldly. "And don't stand there and act like you care more than the rest of us."
"I do care," Hermione snapped. "But someone needs to think rationally here. We can't afford to lose our strongest team members chasing phantom leads!"
That made Miracle pause. Slowly, she turned to face her.
"Funny. You talk like you care about the team, but when have you ever stepped forward for someone who wasn't useful to you?"
Hermione flinched, just a little. Miracle caught it.
"Exactly," Miracle said. Her words cut like blades. "You care, huh? Then prove it. Otherwise, stay out of my way."
She stormed past her, leaving the room. Hermione stood frozen in place for a moment, then muttered under her breath, "That bitch…"
She turned to look at Draven, who had remained quiet in the corner, cleaning his sidearm. His expression was unreadable.
"It's reckless," Hermione said again, her voice quieter now. "Too dangerous."
"I know," Draven said. He snapped the magazine into place and holstered his gun. "But I'm not going to stand back while the Yellow Team uses our people as bargaining chips. Especially not her."
He didn't need to say her name. Hermione already knew—Micquel.
Draven walked out without another word.
Hermione stared after him, torn between anger and the weight of duty. With a sigh of frustration, she snatched a sidearm off the wall and followed.
---
Yellow Team's Second Safe Zone – Outskirts
Twilight draped the sky in a cold violet hue as the Red Team approached the perimeter of the old industrial building. Cracks spiderwebbed the walls. Vines coiled around rusted pipes like silent guardians.
"This is definitely Yellow Team's secondary base," Sol murmured, crouching beside the concrete barricade. "I remember this place. It's fortified."
"That makes this even riskier," Hermione whispered. "They wouldn't leave it undefended."
Miracle narrowed her eyes at the building. Her hand tightened around the grip of her weapon. "Then we're not wasting time."
But before they could take another step—
"STOP!" Skye shouted, throwing his arm out to halt the group. "Tripwire."
They froze. Skye knelt and traced the wire with his gloved fingers, following its path through the grass to a small cylindrical charge nestled in the dirt.
"It's Blue Team tech," he said grimly.
Titus swore under his breath. "Those bastards got here first."
Just as the realization sank in—
"BLUE TEAM!" someone shouted.
Out of the shadows, five figures in blue emerged, weapons drawn.
Chaos exploded.
BOOM.
CRACK.
Smoke and fire erupted as a mine was triggered.
Gunfire followed instantly. Red Team scrambled for cover. Steel clanged against concrete. The sharp bark of commands was barely audible through the cacophony.
Miracle's eyes darted across the battlefield. "They've already ambushed Yellow Team," she muttered. "Where's Micquel?!"
"GO!" Sols yelled as she fired into the smoke. "Draven! Miracle! Find her! We'll hold them here!"
Draven didn't need to be told twice. He turned, eyes blazing. Miracle was already at his side. Hermione, and three others followed.
---
Inside the Yellow Base – Second Floor
The corridors were quiet—but it wasn't peace. It was dread.
Scorch marks lined the walls. Doors had been blasted open. Someone had fought here. Recently.
"There's blood," Hermione whispered. He knelt by a smear on the floor, trailing it with his eyes.
"They didn't all make it," Miracle said, jaw clenched.
Suddenly—
BANG.
A gunshot rang out above them.
Draven bolted toward the staircase, not even hesitating. The others followed, weapons ready.
They reached the second floor just in time to hear a second, closer shot.
They sprinted in the direction of the gunshot.
---