1 The witch Savior
October 8, 2013
"You're gonna die, witch," sneered the old man, gripping a wicked dagger. My hands were bound tightly to a splintered wooden post, and the ominous sky above threatened an impending storm. I braced myself for the inevitable, resigned to my fate. Yet, against all odds, salvation intervened.
A sudden gunshot shattered the tense air, echoing through the darkness. A mysterious figure emerged—a man concealed behind a skull-patterned balaclava, a headset framing his face, and dark red sunglasses obscuring his eyes.
With swift determination, he sprinted toward me, swiftly cutting through the crowd. His gloved hands expertly worked at the knots, freeing me from the unforgiving restraint of the wooden post. Meanwhile, his comrades formed a protective circle, holding back the group of assailants who sought my demise.
"Are you alright?" His deep voice resonated with both strength and concern, leaving an indelible imprint on my shaken senses.
"I'm..." I attempted to speak, but my voice failed me, lost in the tumultuous mix of relief, confusion, and gratitude.
"You're safe now," he assured me, draping his jacket over my shoulders like a shield against the lingering chill. His comrades formed a protective barrier around us, swiftly neutralizing the threat posed by those who had sought to end my life. The assailants found themselves forced to the ground, their futile resistance quickly quelled.
"You're making a mistake! That girl is a witch!" protested the old woman, her voice filled with both fear and conviction as she lay subdued.
"And I'm a wolf," quipped a cheeky voice with a Scottish accent. A man with brown hair and piercing blue eyes mocked the elderly woman, his irreverence contrasting sharply with the gravity of the situation.
As the chaotic scene unfolded, I struggled to process the surreal turn of events before succumbing to the overwhelming fatigue and shock. My world descended into darkness as consciousness slipped away from me.
Ghost point of view
"Medic!" Simon "Ghost" Riley bellowed, cradling the injured girl protectively in his arms. Her body bore the brutal marks of the recent assault, wounds etched across her skin like a gruesome tapestry. Reacting swiftly, Soap sprinted to Ghost's side, laying out a first aid kit with practiced efficiency.
Their mission had taken an unexpected turn, veering into a harrowing encounter they hadn't anticipated.
"What should we do with these people?" Soap inquired, his gaze stern as he surveyed the group who had moments ago sought the girl's demise. The tension in the air crackled with uncertainty as the team grappled with the dilemma of how to handle the would-be assailants.
"Lieutenant!" a soldier called from behind the hut, diverting Ghost's attention.
"You've got to see this," Ghost carefully laid the girl's head on the ground, his concern evident, as he followed his men.
To their collective horror, a large pit revealed itself, filled with a gruesome pile of lifeless bodies.
"What kind of sick people are they?" Roach exclaimed, his disbelief mirrored by the unsettled expressions of the rest.
"Price, what should we do with these people?" Roach asked, turning to their experienced leader as he surveyed the macabre scene.
"Call headquarters. In the meantime, get the girl to safety," Price commanded, his voice firm with a touch of grim determination. Roach immediately grabbed his radio, fingers flying over the buttons as he transmitted a message to their higher-ups.
Ghost's keen eyes silently scanned the gruesome drawings etched onto the pile of lifeless bodies. The chilling realization dawned upon him as he noticed a disturbing similarity between the markings and those on the girl they had just rescued.
As he moved through the haunting scene, one particular lifeless form seized his attention. The woman's lifeless eyes seemed to hold a secret, and Ghost's hand gravitated toward the pendant hanging from her neck—a pendant eerily identical to the one the rescued girl wore.
A somber determination settled in Ghost's expression as he carefully detached the pendant from the deceased woman. In that macabre moment, he hoped that uncovering the connection between these two individuals might shed light on the dark mysteries surrounding them.
"In my life, I never thought I would encounter such a scene," Soap uttered quietly from behind Ghost. The weight of the moment hung in the air, a stark contrast to the battles and crimes they had faced before. This situation seemed out of place, an anomaly in their collective experiences—a sinister puzzle they hadn't anticipated.
"This place feels like a cult," Soap added, his words carrying a sense of unease as they grappled with the eerie atmosphere that surrounded them. The realization that they had stumbled upon something far more insidious than a random act of violence lingered, casting a shadow over the gravity of the situation.
