Search the Community

*** Continued from “A Night in Hell” *** February 13, 2022 0200 Hours Waterfront Warehouse, NYC Despite his injuries, the dark, the wind, and the cold, Ryan had managed to shoot his communications jammer on his first attempt. It had been placed on the fire escape across the street, hidden from view. The small, black box jumped when the round tore through it. The sound of gunfire muffled by the silencer at the end of his weapon’s barrel. After checking his phone to ensure service had been restored, the agent trudged through the snow and made his way back into the warehouse. A shaking hand dialed the contact in his phone. Shivering couldn’t be helped, by now the cold had seeped down to the bone. First call was made to the head of the Cloak Division. The Division leader had been disappointed at the mission’s outcome, but nonetheless, was understanding of the agent’s situation. Authorization was approved to request immediate support from the Knight Division. Harker was given a verification code to confirm the requests approval. The next call was made to none other than Cassandra Greene, the Knight Divisions most trusted Captain. Harker’s “request” for support wasn’t really a request. A Cloak operative in the field, on an authorized mission, could pretty much demand emergency assistance from the other ARMA Divisions. If the support was available, it would be provided. That said, these requests were not made lightly, and poor judgment on the part of the operative could easily result in the end of his career. Given the nature of their previous encounters, Harker wasn’t surprised by Captain Greene’s displeased response to his request for assistance. By the end of their conversation she had called him a “shit magnet” more than once; probably not an unfair assessment. Regardless of her personal frustrations, Cassandra assured him the cavalry was enroute. A tactical team, crime scene investigators, emergency medical personnel, and a host of other Knight agents would be at his location shortly. Ryan paused before making the last call. Her contact had been pulled up on his phone, thumb hovered over the dial button. She was expecting a call from him. Had the mission gone according to plan, he would be bringing the recovered artifact to her place for analysis presently. Unfortunately, this mission had been FUBAR from the beginning. Rorye hadn’t been given any information regarding the operation at the warehouse. Ryan mentioned he would be acquiring an enchanted item this evening; a relic pertaining to their investigation of the “threat.” She was probably still awake, waiting for him to return so they could examine the artifact together. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen now. She would worry if he didn’t call. Still, for several reasons, the Soldier hesitated. Most prominent amongst them being the shame he felt. Arrogantly, he had promised he would keep her safe. Vowed he would find those responsible for Remy’s death. Boasted he would follow the organization to its highest levels and see it destroyed. Told her not to worry and assured her, he could handle himself. Yet, his current circumstance invalidated all those claims. He had failed. Button was pressed and the phone rang. When he heard her voice on the other end, he said casually, “Hey gorgeous.” Ryan could feel a lump growing in his throat, tightening his vocal cords. “What the fuck?” he chastised himself. He had managed to maintain his composure throughout both of his previous conversations. Now, he could feel his bearing slipping. Was it the intense pain in his shattered arm? The stabbing sensation he felt in his ribcage with every breath? Or was it the disparaging chill threatening to freeze his exposed extremities? The ceaseless ache throughout his body, as his muscles spasmed involuntarily against his injuries in an attempt keep him warm? Perhaps, it was merely the shame of letting her down? Or knowing he was going to lie to her about it now? More than likely, it was a combination of all the above. Ryan coughed lightly to clear his throat. “Pull your shit together,” he coached himself mentally. “Hey, so I kinda fucked up some of the paperwork for my last mission.” A deep breath, mouth away from the phone so it wouldn’t be heard. Frustrated tears burned at the edges of his eyes. Adrenaline had all but subsided. The pain of his condition was wearing down his mental fortitude. Given everything, he was probably on the verge of shock. Voice in his head came again, “You’re a warrior God damn it, get your fucken mind right.” Another light cough, then he continued. “No big deal, but I gotta head over to H-Q and sort it out.” The agent stood alone in the dark, away from Maya. “Probably not going to make it back to the shop tonight. My place is closer to H-Q, so I might just stop in there for some sleep.” “There you go,” the voice said. “Calm breaths. You got this.” “Everything is fine,” surprisingly, Ryan had managed to keep an even tone. “I just wanted to give you a call so you wouldn’t worry.” (OOC: Ryan isn't in good shape, but his injuries really just consist of a broken arm, a couple cracked ribs, a head injury, assorted bumps and bruises. Nothing life threatening. But if you have ever had all these injuries at once, once your adrenaline wears off, it can be a lot to handle.)