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Beauty of the Blistering Sky	By : UltraVioletSoul Category: +S through Z > Splinter Cell Views: 1828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell or its characters. Neither do I own the song "Bullets" by Archive. No copyright infringement intended. I am just trying to provide entertainment, and by no means do I have lucrative purposes.

Chapter List
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Chapter II

Your thoughts were fogged as soon as your mouth met his, drowning in the heat of this burning need that boiled under your skins. His strong hands slid from the smoothness of your thighs to the soft curves of your waist, eager to feel you close to him as your tongue slowly and playfully licked his lips. He parted them and greeted you with his own slick pink appendage and, soon, the kiss turned into a fiery battle for dominance as your enthused pants mixed with his deep grunts. Your body shuddered and your heart raced in anticipation of the main event to come, your hands clinging to his broad shoulders as he stroked the small of your back, dangerously close to your butt. Nothing could stop you now, and you were not going to back off this time. You wanted nothing more than to relish in his touch; to discover the world in his eyes– to be his at least once.

How did you end up in the arms of this dangerous and cryptic man?

Going a little back in time your life had been quiet and pretty normal, but the safety of your everyday routine provided comfort to your wellbeing. Working as a nurse at your twenty-three, you had been living in a small apartment on your own for some time now. You earned a decent income, and were making plans for your future with the inherent enthusiasm of youth. Your dreams were simple; going abroad, expanding your horizons a bit more, and finally settling with someone to have a family of your own.

It was not long before you thought you had found ‘The One’. One day, you met this apparently wonderful guy who convinced you with sweet-nothings and made you fall in love with him. His name does not matter, nor is it worthy of being mentioned for, as soon as you began a more steady relationship, he asked you to sleep with him. Being the kind of girl you were, you panicked a little thinking that it was too soon to take the next step and voiced your concern. You had believed he would understand; you had foolishly believed he would wait for you to be ready.

How wrong you had been; you could not believe it as tears ran down your cheeks. How blind had you been to not see the kind of moron this guy truly was? You had been too happy to see past the beautiful mirage, and into the ill-disposed true nature of his soul. He got mad at you, and said many horrible things not caring about your feelings at all. By the end of the night, the enchantment that had made you see this world in rosy hues was broken and so was your heart. He had deeply hurt you with his words and you surely did not want to see him anymore after that.

After the argument with your last jerk of a boyfriend, who ended up commanding you to get out of his car and leaving you to your own devices in the seaport, you had thought that these guys you came across could help you find your way home since you were having a hard time trying to find transport. Maybe you would not have done such a thing if your cellphone had not run out of battery, but you had no choice. No long after that you discovered that, to your horror, it had proved to be a disastrous idea that you regretted big time, seeing the hostile faces of your captors as they dragged you to one of the store rooms in the nearly deserted complex. Your whole body was trembling in fear as you demanded— more like pleaded— to be released, to no avail.

You had never intended to eavesdrop on that goddamned conversation about the arrangements for this shipment of weapons to arrive safely to the Middle East, but what could you have possibly done about it? As you realized that they were not the good guys, but part of a smuggling arms net, it was too late to run—or even hide— and what you got, instead, was a hard slap in the face and accusations regarding your situation as a spy– a spy no less! You tried, futilely, to reason with them in hopes they would release you and let you go, explaining that you had been abandoned by your former boyfriend in this place and that you only had been seeking help, but they heard none.

It had been in that moment when all hope had been lost, and you had found yourself bound to a chair as a man threatened you to start singing like a bird or else. Your lip was cut, your face bruised and you were crying your eyes out, repeating again and again that you knew nothing– that you had happened to be there by mere chance. Your interrogator, a middle-aged grey-eyed man, had been smoking blond tobacco, smirking and calling you names that humiliated and denigrated you in ways you could have never imagined until then.

At one point, it seemed like you had convinced him you were not there to dig your nose in their business because he gently petted your hair as his hand started roaming up your thigh. The lone feeling of his fingers getting close to your crotch had made you cower and, instinctively, you closed your legs before madly shaking your head to refuse your consent to his advances. This made him angry, and your response was another slap that made you screech and taste the metallic bittersweet taste of your own blood.

God. You felt despaired. Not only were they going to kill you; they were also going to defile your body in every possible vile way. You knew this very well. You had heard enough stories and seen enough cases to know how this would end.

Before you knew it, the man had roughly taken hold of your chin and the blistering heat of a lit cigarette was close to burn your left eye on its socket. And you screamed at the top of your lungs, terrified out of your wits as the ropes seemed to cut your wrists in your attempts to get free.

You were going to die tonight, a horrible and degrading death– you were sure of that. You could feel it in your heart.

Your sight had blurred with tears and, still, the epiphany in the verge of your downfall was unlike anything you had ever seen before as you felt the sudden energy of a gust cut through the air, swift and lethal. Never in your life had you imagined that the dance of bullets gliding in the air, almost in slow motion, would be so beautiful so as to take your breath away. They were beautiful to you, sparkling in the taut smoky atmosphere and spinning around in a deadly whirl of sweltering heat. Maybe it was the adrenaline in your veins that caused this stasis in your head, since you swore you could see the hot piece of metal slowly penetrate your captor’s skull with a sickening hiss, small speckles of red velvet flying in the air as he collapsed with a dull thud.

And maybe you were some kind of psycho, but you actually felt glad when everyone was dead. Or, at any rate, you could not say you felt sorry about that and neither could you ask for their sins to be forgiven. You simply could not bring yourself to feel any sympathy for those devils that had felt none for you.

You squeaked when the butt fell on your lap, burning you through your clothes, and kicked your legs to get rid of the scorching sensation that had left a black spot on your faded jeans. But that was one of the last things that mattered to you at the moment as you felt a pair of leather-clad hands grab yours, from behind, and the alarming coldness of metal against your skin. You sobbed, alarmed, and tried to get away from the new threat looming behind you, large and mighty. But, then, a masculine voice hushed you and soothed your concerns with friendly words, and you felt the aching pressure on your wrists disappear with a simple slice of his knife as the pieces of rope fell apart, landing with an unnoticeable softness on the cold floor.

Blinking a couple of times, you gasped for air and tried to make sense of the particular male clad in special black gear that now stood before you. He was a man, of course; a mature man– his salt-and-pepper short hair was the immediate giveaway to the amount of years he had lived. His scrutinizing and vigilant eyes were the color of emeralds, enhanced with a dangerous shadow of tourmaline in them. His skin was somewhat tanned and there was a graying tickling-looking five-o’clock-shadow that extended from his sideburns to the underside of his sharp chin. He was remarkably tall— about six feet, you believed— and he hovered above you with an inquisitive gaze that certainly was intimidating and took your breath away. This definitely was a man you did not want to mess with, you thought as you watched the muscles of his arms and shoulders flex and relax in unison with the movements he made to put the gleaming blade away.

The equipment he carried– a strange material special suit covering every inch of his noticeable fit body, which any younger man would have certainly envied; a strange set of goggles on his head; weapons; and other gadgets you had never seen in your life– rang bells to you. It occurred to you if this guy was not a mercenary, then he had to be working on an international government’s behalf. You were not sure, but why not? Those guys had accused you of being a spy, and here was the real one!

“Are you okay?” Your knight in not-so-shiny armor asked and you nodded with wide eyes, your voice utterly lost. You were so shocked by the outcome of the events and by your own thoughts that you dared not look him in the eye anymore. If he was who you thought he was, then it was better if you could not recognize him after this night. “What are you doing here?” His voice was deep, laced with a mixture of nerve-wracking authority and a strong confidence in his own words.

You shivered in fear, and suddenly understood that this man could snap your neck in half before you even had the chance to do anything. You still tried to calm down and, with a shaky voice, you babbled your explanation on how your date had culminated in this nightmare. The man did not seem to consider you a threat, since he simply began to check the bodies— lying in pools of their own blood. You watched as he relieved them of access cards or keys or whatever he thought would come in handy afterwards, occasionally pausing to hum a brief acknowledgment of your account of the events.

Once he was satisfied, he turned to you with furrowed brows and you gulped in apprehension. You did not dare asking what he was doing here– you were pretty sure you did not want to know. Maybe it had something to do with the terrorist affairs of the extremist parties in Middle East, now that you began to put the pieces together. Why else would this armed man have interest in this virtually abandoned area of the port?

No. You did not want to hear any more of it.

“It’d better if you left, kid.” He finally decided, after concluding you were a simple victim of the circumstances, and making sure that you did not have any vital information on the matter at hand. Again, you nodded before he walked to the window, with the stealth of a black panther, and swiftly waved for you to follow. Staggering a little, you managed to get up from the chair and reached for the big and firm hand he offered for you to take– the promise of freedom and protection he unknowingly had made as you drew close to him. And you could not resist the temptation as his warm fingers closed around your tender wrist; when his strong hands travelled to take a possessive hold of your waist to help you climb out. You felt something flutter inside of you, and gratitude was suddenly the only thing you wanted to show him as you realized that, if it were not for him, you would be enduring a horrid torture in the hands of those beasts.

You desperately wanted to know his name, concerned that you might forget his face.

Your only response was a suspicious frown of his green eyes before he shook his head, which made you feel a little upset. He simply told you to go home and be more careful the next time you decided to date a guy– something that made you hung your head in shame and disappointment because he was right.

He told you to forget that you had ever met, and that you were not to speak a single word about him; otherwise he would know and would come for you. Sam had not meant to threaten you, but he could not simply have you walk out of this place and warn the entire forces of the city about what had transpired and, consequently, his ‘heroic’ feat. He was not supposed to be there, in the first place.

After a few directions from him, you were able to make out your current location and took off to the night– praying you would not get caught again– and, as the stranger had requested, never looked back. What you did not know was that he had remained a few seconds by the window watching you trot away and hide in the shadows, like he usually did when sneaking in enemy territory. He wondered for a fleeting moment if you would be able to make it home safely, while trying to convince himself that he had done everything there had been to do for you. From this point, it was up to you and Lady Luck.

Hopefully, you would be safe; Sam sincerely hoped that as you disappeared from his sight.
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Beauty of the Blistering Sky