Chapter Text
He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there, body aching as rubble dug into his bruised spine. He vaguely recalled Thermite calling him in for the extraction of the current Hot Zone trio, the group having successfully destroyed the Nursery being put together by the Parasite in the Sierra Paradise Resort. A sharp pain in his left thigh reminded him of how he ended up curled in the remains of a car dealership. He closed his eyes, replaying the images of spikes launching at his helicopter, riping apart the blades keeping the pilot aloft. He remembered plummeting towards the building he currently lay bleeding, the shrieks of infected echoing in his eardrums before he first lost consciousness.
His fingers drifted towards the still bleeding wound on his leg, fingertips brushing against a solid mass embedded in the flesh. Against his better judgement, he pulled the object from his leg, wincing as he watched more blood pool in the space beneath him.
He looked at the object, eyes going wide behind his visor, breath escaping him in pants. He had hoped that it was simply a piece of rubble, or a piece of metallic remains from his crashed bird. His vision began to swim as he realized how dire his situation had become. The object clenched in his fingers was a spike. One of the same that took him out of the sky.
He was infected.
He grit his teeth, struggling to sit up on his own as questions flooded through his mind, each one worrying him more than the last.
What if someone finds out? Was he really even infected? If so, is there a cure? Did Doc's theory come to fruition? Would he have to put an end to himself before the evac team even reached him? Would they reach him? Worst of all, how would he react to this?
He shook his head, cursing as his head throbbed with the motion. He didn't want to think of what some of the answers would be. Despite the hope he held, that he would be safe, that Doc had a cure ready, he knew something was wrong. He knew he wasn't safe. Not anymore. He could feel something twisting inside of him. Something dark, something dangerous. Something inhuman.
He squinted, seeing a flash of light in the distance.
Had they found him? Was it too late?
He didn't want to think about it.
He huffed, shifting his body on the rubble, hoping to alleviate the strange tension he felt between his shoulder blades. He heard Finka before he saw her, the youngest Spetsnaz operator giving orders to her two companions, Glaz and Ying, by the sound of their responses. Glaz got to work barricading any window or doorway he could find in the dealership, Ying reinforcing whatever wall she could with what little supplies she could use. Finka helped the German operator sit up, checking over his wounds, or lack thereof. Determining that he was in acceptable health for transport, she called in her team, giving Thermite the all-clear to send in another evac chopper.
He flinched as Glaz sat behind him, using his own body to keep the smaller male upright. He felt Glaz' rifle rest on his shoulder, the younger using him for leverage while keeping an eye on the doorway. He eyed the suppressor at the end of the sniper, body relaxing as he realized his eardrums were safe from the known crack of the powerful weapon. His back itched, but he chose to ignore it, fearing for what it could mean.
He grabbed at his arm, where his GSG 9 patch resided, and tore the item from his sleeve. He passed it backwards to the sniper, an agreement they made long ago coming to light. He felt more than heard Glaz' growl as he felt the fabric between his fingers.
"You know how this might end."
He whispered, the Russian sighing in response. He could feel the twisting from before return with a vengeance. He watched as the trio dispatched near endless waves of infected. Grunts and Breachers, a Rooter or two. All ws going smoothly, until an Apex appeared. He felt Glaz tense as Finka boosted the team, focus shifting from the remaining Breachers onto the Apex, Ying tossing her last Candela at the creature. They expended most of their remaining ammunition to bring down the beast, Ying having taken the brunt of its assault. With it's dying breath, they heard it scream. Normally, they would ignore it and move on, but its words froze Glaz as he felt the defender tense.
"Catcher?"
The Russian murmured, the German twitching at the term. He worried for the smaller male, feeling something prodding at his chest. He slowly looked down, breath hitching as he noticed small appendages tearing through the fabric of the pilots uniform. He slowly scooted back, trying not to alert his teammate to his newfound knowledge. It wasn't enough. Finka turned, slowly, eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the movement behind the German.
"Marius, what has happened to you?"
He noted that her hand rested on her sidearm, having expended her rifle ammo on the Apex. He looked to Ying, seeing her LSW pointed at him, hands shaking. Her teeth were gritted, it was clear that none of them knew what to do, nor what to expect from him. He watched as a single tear slid down Finka's cheek, gun removed from its holster. He followed her gaze, his once blue eyes locking onto the growing appendages protruding from his spine. He tested them, picking himself up from the floor, surprised at the strength in the spindly limbs.
"Tell him I'm sorry. I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end at all."
Glaz nodded once, Ying's eyes closing with a resigned sigh at the motion. Finka's grip tightened on the weapon in her hands, rifle slung onto her back. He noticed the resolved expression on her face, regret and understanding in her icy eyes.
"Goodnight, Streicher."
He closed his eyes, murmuring one more thing, a single word heard only by the Russian at his back.
He heard the shots, but felt nothing.
He supposed, there were worse ways to go.
Thermite paced as the Hot Zone operators returned, but no sign of their fourth teammate.
"What the hell happened out there?!"
Tachanka slowly stood from his seat at the debriefing table, eyes locked onto the patch being absentmindedly rubbed between Glaz' fingers. The older operator silenced Thermite with a huff and a wave of his hand.
"He knew."
Glaz nodded, the entire room falling silent. Ying stepped forward, hand resting on the snipers shoulder. Her words were soft as she spoke to the remaining operators.
"Ash, could you find a way to get this back to him? And Doc, radio Blitz, he might be able to mitigate the worst of the damage, if he knows what to expect beforehand."
The two nod at the smaller female, Ash gently taking the patch from Glaz, jaw clenched as she realized what he must be feeling. She left the tent, snapping at some recruits as she did her damndest to ensure that the patch she held made it back to Hereford in one piece, and soon. Doc called Blitz from a private corner of the hazmat tent, the medic barely forcing the words out as he thought of what could happen once he received the patch.
Thy all hoped that Blitz could help soften the blow that they all knew the little patch of cloth would deal.
They had no idea how wrong they were.
Pake, shaking hands held a now tear-stained patch, thumbs gently running over the stitched designs. Blitz had just left the room, tears streaking down his face just as well.
He returned two hours later. It was then that he realized his mistake.
Bandit was dead before he even reached the hallway.
He closed his eyes, murmuring one more thing, a single word heard only by the Russian at his back.
'Brunsmeier.'