Done for TRvBRC Challenge #1.
I wish I could have spent more time on this. But as we all know, time gets away from you, especially when you're on the Red vs Blue Review Crew every spare second.
Dedicated to everyone at the No.1 Forum in the Halo Forums.
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"For in the end, it is all about memory, its sources and its magnitude, and, of course, its consequences." -Elie Wiesel
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One.
Two.
Three.
Four
Turn around.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around
Pacing.
Like the caged animal he was.
Back and forth.
Again and again.
The relentless rhythm, slowly tapping itself into the deepest reaches his mind.
Every single crack and crevice drinking themselves with the aggravating beat.
"Not my fault. Someone put a wall in my way."
He growled.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
Prowling and pacing, the tiny grey cell blurred and refocused as his pace quickened.
Each step brought with it anger and rage, which seeped into his very being and threatened to explode at any second like a volatile volcano on the verge of erupting and destroying everything in sight.
"Fuck! I missed him!"
"I knew you did!"
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
He wanted to yell.
He wanted to scream.
Frustration.
Injustice.
Bitterness.
"What are you gonna do, Wash? Shoot m-"
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
"Your face is immature."
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
"Why break the goddamn streak?"
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
"BOO, motherfucker!"
One.
"Another wasted opportunity."
Two.
"Only stick."
Three.
"Good luck with being a cop, COP!"
Four.
"Everybody agrees it was an accident."
Turn around.
"Shut up."
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn around.
"And they can bring down the one responsible for what was done to Alpha... and to me. And to my friends. They can take down the Director."
His frustration reached its peak, a curled fist striking out and making contact with the cold grey wall.
New pain washed over as he collapsed onto a tiny, unmade bed, cradling his swelling fingers to his chest, swearing and cursing under his breath.
The anger was far from gone, though.
How could he have trusted idiots with something so important?
Situations and consequences raced through his mind, twisting and contorting until they lay useless and abandoned in the darkest recesses of his imagination.
Two warthogs driving off into the distance, hints of either Blue or Red standing out like blood amongst the mess of metal greys and blacks.
And he turned away, walking towards his death. Leaving the fate of success in the hands of imbeciles.
"Of all the stupid..." he began muttering, massaging his throbbing hand and sending a death glare at the cold, unseeing lens of the security camera situated at the far right corner of his cell.
"I am very sorry, Agent Washington. But Project: Freelancer no longer has need of your services."
And through the lens of a camera, the bastard had sealed his fate.
"Agent Maine. Please kill Agent Washington."
"N-"
He lightly touched the small scar on his left arm, rubbing it subconsciously until his mind caught up with his body.
He jerked his hand away, swearing and jumping to his feet.
Just to resume the blasted pacing.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn.
"And they can bring down the one responsible for what was done to Alpha... and to me. And to my friends. They can take down the Director."
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn.
Two warthogs driving off into the distance, hints of either Blue or Red standing out like blood amongst the mess of metal greys and blacks.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Turn.
"Washington! Got a call for you."
Stop.
What now!
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