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r0ttenb0gb0dy · 7 months ago

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1/10 Coda "Rex" Morelli

Half a million dollars to extract some sensitive information from a high-security facility and get out before anyone noticed it was gone. Intense, but doable. Coda had picked up on his knack for stealth rather soon into his endeavors in the army, though he knew they’d be better placed elsewhere — mercenary work. Nonviolent, if at all possible, but he didn’t mind much if it got rough.

It was a simple mission.

How he had ended up handcuffed to a chair in a base he did not recognize, he had no idea.

It was cold in the room, definitely well within the range of freezing. It made him shudder once, shivering slightly as he tried to focus on his surroundings. His eyes fixed slowly as he came to, focusing on the man standing a few feet in front of him, behind a metal folding table. He was tall, his presence dark and domineering.

“Who the hell sent you?” He asked, leaning forward slightly on the table. Coda blinked a few times, trying to get the fuzz in his vision to fade and failing. Everything tasted like blood, coppery and pungent in his mouth, and when he licked his lips she tasted it. “Hey, kid, who sent you?”

“Hm?” Coda tilted their head slightly, the ache of the cuffs on their wrists settling in. Everything hurt. “I’m sorry?”

“Who contracted you to break into the secure facility you were found outside?”

“I-I’m sorry — who are you? Where…where am I?” They were anxious, clearly. Voice shaky and eyes darting around in some attempt to gain footing, but it was all in vain. The room was without demarcation, no signs as to where he was being kept.

“I need answers, kid. Start talkin’.” The man insisted despite his confusion, stepping a little bit closer to Coda, closing the distance in an instant. He felt his heart racing, pounding before he even noticed the switchblade in his hand. They knew taking a contract like this was risky, but not to this extent, not to being tied to a chair with a knife to their flesh.

“Who the hell are you?” They snapped again, earning a low chuckle from the tall man.

“You really don’t know?” He took a moment to take his appearance in, the sandy blonde color of his hair, the cobalt blue of his eyes. The long scar on his cheek. He was completely unfamiliar to him though he spoke as if he should know him just based on the pretty face. He was handsome, he’d give him that, but not recognizable.

“No.” Coda confirmed, shaking their head. The man who hired them hadn’t told them much about what they were getting into, just what he needed to do, the layout of the building and all. He hadn’t mentioned a really grimy interrogation room, but that's besides the point.

“Name’s Philip Graves.” He said, crouching down so that he was a little closer to eye level with Coda, looking up at him now. The knife traced up his clothed leg, leaving a surface level cut on the fabric of his trousers. “And you were tasked with breakin’ into my facility.”

To say Coda was surprised was to say the least, he didn’t look like much of anyone let alone the owner of a building like the one he was meant to infiltrate. Their eyes wandered him for some kind of sign, landing on the badge stuck to his plate carrier. Shadow Company. Nothing he’d heard of.

“I-I didn’t — listen, I don’t know what you want from me but I didn’t know what I was gettin’ into when I took this job.”

“Who hired you?” He asked, picking at the buttons of his shirt with the knife’s end. They fell off and the fabric fell open, though he was still covered by his trusty plate-carrier. The air was even colder now with more skin exposed, making him feel vulnerable in a new, more terrifying way. “I don’t take too kindly to trespassers, kid. You’re lucky my boys didn’t shoot you on sight.”

“I-I don’t…know.” He wasn’t lying. The man remained anonymous entirely, only communicating through encrypted networks and the like. He had broken into a facility so secure that it was terrifying to imagine the lengths it would take to infiltrate it. How could he not know the person who instructed him to do so? It would’ve taken countless hours to study and learn this place inside and out in order to break into it.

“Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit, I mean it: I don’t know.” Coda pleaded, looking up at him with confusion in their eyes. They had been interrogated before by friendly forces as training, taught what to do in these sorts of situations, but now that it was happening they were worried. He never quite stopped tracing the switchblade up their body, digging the point in but never piercing the flesh. “I saw a big paycheck and agreed, okay?”

“I don’t buy that, kid, I really don’t…see, I got a lot of folks that’d want to put a bullet in my head, and you were hired by one of ‘em. It's not so hard to tell me their name, is it?”

“I don’t know who hired —“ A crisp smack across the face and he felt dazed, vision blurring slightly as he recoiled from the collision. Coda caught his breath and looked up to the man, Philip Graves, something between fear and anger in his eyes. He only looked smug, satisfied with the red welts on his cheek. “Fuck you.”

“In your dreams, darlin’, now the man who hired you…what was his name?” He asked him, the switchblade finding it’s way up to his throat. It was a threat, poignant and sharp, leaving him holding his breath involuntarily. All he wanted was the money, a new start at life, a chance to make a name for himself — this was not what he bargained for.

“I’m not tellin’ you shit if you’re gonna play dirty like that.”

“It’s not dirty. You’re the one who was breakin’ in to my facility, so…” Graves trailed off, digging the tip of the blade in slightly before he flicked it, nicking the skin of their throat just enough to bleed. He watched them wince at the sensation before he put the blade away, deciding to focus on the emotional strategy for now. The man was littered with scars, pain likely wouldn’t elicit a reaction.“You don’t look like a merc, y’know.”

“You don’t look like someone with important intel.”

“Watch that mouth, darlin’.” Graves hummed, circling around them as he spoke, sort of inspecting his prey. They weren't entirely sure what he was thinking, but it couldn’t be good for them. After a few moments of silence he stepped back from their personal space, making way to what seemed to be an exit door. He opened it, stepping out halfway before glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll give you some time to decide what you wanna tell me.”

“As if.” He mumbled as he slammed the door, silence overcoming the room. Coda glanced around at the barren space to find nothing of importance or interest, and his mind began to try and work through it all. Just what would he have been stealing here? It was a base, this he knew, but of what? Military? Mercenaries? It had to be something important if they had intel worth half a mil.

To the best of his ability he tried to relax in the chair, leaning back slightly and widening his stance so that it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable to be in. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles were the worst of it, digging in slowly as he adjusted over time, cutting into his flesh.

Hours went by in silence and after a while, he fell asleep sitting up in the chair. Busted lips and all, covered in blood, body aching. The cut on his neck never stopped stinging, though it eventually stopped bleeding, the front of his shirt soaked in crimson. He wasn’t sure he would even try and fight his captor — the blonde man had the power here, and letting him go wasn’t an option was it? Even he knew that this was probably the room he would die in, and as he realized such he decided he would at least try and get him to believe him. Not before a rest, albeit uncomfortable and restrained.

They woke an unknown amount of time later to his hand on their cheek, gently tapping until he came to, met with those hazy cobalt blue eyes. He looked more surprised than anything, if not concerned, that they were able to sleep in an interrogation room. Covered in blood and restrained. He was too trusting, that was clear, because who falls asleep when held in captivity.

“Mornin’, sleepin’ beauty.” Graves spoke, retracting his gloved hand. “How the hell’d you fall asleep like that?”

“M’just exhausted. Spent the past few days plannin’, didn’t get much sleep.” He replied, shaking his head in an effort to wake himself up more. Once more, a strange level of trust from someone cuffed up.

“You think about what I asked, yet? Who told you to break into my facility?”

“I told you, I don’t know. He was anonymous.”

“You see, I’d love to believe you sweetheart, but I don’t.” Graves pulled up another chair, placing it across from Coda’s own, and then sitting down in it. “Half a million dollars on the line, a larger than life covert facility, and you didn’t ask his name?"

“How am I supposed to know where the hell he got his information from? I’m just a merc.” He glared up at Graves, who only rolled his eyes.

“You’ve got one helluva mouth on you, and I thought I told you to watch it.”

“I don’t think I will.” Despite the small amount of sleep they’d managed to get tied up in the chair, their personality remained intact. What hadn’t held up was their physical resolve. Every pound of them hurt from top to bottom and since they hadn’t really moved they couldn’t tell the extent of their injuries, but they were certain that whoever had knocked them out and brought them here had not been gentle. At the very least they’ sprained a joint or two, based on the incessant pounding in their wrists.

“Suit yourself…” Graves replied, extending a hand out towards them, ripping the name badge off of their empty plate carrier. “Morelli.”

“Coda Morelli.” He mumbled, knowing that he’d probably find it out one way or another. If he was a merc like them, he probably had a way of accessing those types of files — military or otherwise. Afterall, he bore an American flag on his uniform, there was no way this guy wasn’t a Marine or something of the like. He had that cocky air about him that screamed USMC.

“Alright, Coda. Tell y’what, I’ll give you a few options here.” He reached out and ripped the flag badge off of their vest as well as the military insignia from their old platoon. It wasn’t like they worked with them anymore, after basic they were scraped up into the contracting world fairly quickly, but they liked the reminder. “You get real honest about who sent y’here and I’ll go easy on you, or you can keep actin’ like you don’t know a thing n’I’ll have to make you spill it.”

“I. Don’t. Know. Anything.” He looked over at him through the haze in his vision, a sincerity lacing the words, but understandably he didn’t buy it. Someone had leaked sensitive information about his company and now it was in their hands, and they were the only one who even had a little bit of an idea who had leaked it. They knew this was what he had to do but they truthfully had no idea, and knew for sure that he’d try and get it out of them. “I’ll tell you anythin’ else, but I don’t know who gave me the information, it was a dead drop.”

“See, now we’re gettin’ somewhere, sugar. A dead drop where?” A smile flashed across his face, his hands idly toying with the patches from their vest that he now held. He had a charm to his personality that they despised — it was almost easy to talk to him.

“Some small town in Texas, at a bar…someone left it in the pocket of a pool table n’I slipped in and grabbed it.”

“How’d he get ahold of you to…contract you in the first place?”

“He called me but I think it was automated — y’know what I mean? Not his voice.”

“Don’t know why this was so hard for you t’tell me before.” He said in reply, standing up from the chair and tossing the patches aside, somewhere behind that she couldn’t see for the time being. “You still got the drive, or did he have you break it?”

“It’s at…it’s at my apartment. I was supposed to, uhm…to break it after the op.”

“Alright, well, what PMC am I dealin’ with when I break that door down? M’sure your boss won’t love us showin’ up on your doorstep.”

“I’m…not in one..?” This was the part he was hesitant to let slip, but there wasn’t much of a choice here. If he lied he’d probably assume that he was hiding something, and he didn’t want to see what it looked like when he didn’t cooperate. He looked genuinely surprised by their answer, but who wouldn’t be? One person attempting to break into a high-security facility all alone? It seemed ridiculous — just plain suicidal. “It’s just me.”

“So nobody’s lookin’ for you?” He asked, pacing the small stretch of room, a sort of disbelief in his words. Realization set in slowly for Coda, and they knew right then they were completely and entirely screwed.

The only person who would realize he was gone soon enough was his roomate, but he knew about his work, knew he could leave for extended periods of time. Still. His family didn’t know what he got up to, he didn’t have a day job. This was it, and nobody had any idea where to look for him if he went missing.

“No.” He answered in a quiet fear, shaking his head slightly though it made the room spin, head pounding. “No, nobody’s…lookin’ for me. I work alone.”

“Christ.” He breathed, a laugh slipping out through the utter disbelief on his face. “You must have quite the reputation for someone to put that much faith in one man to break into this place, I’ll give you that.”

“I could…go get the drive — bring it here.”

“Oh, no, no, sweetheart. No, I’m not lettin’ you leave here.” He laughed again, though this time it hit him just how in danger she truly was. A person that nobody would miss, a blip on the radar, just one person who got contracted to do the wrong job, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Luck was not on his side. “You know too much.”

“But I-I didn’t…I didn’t do anything! I-I’m sorry, okay?”

“But you had the intent to, didn’t you Coda?” Graves closed the distance between them once again, his hand going to his jaw, grabbing it and forcing him to look up at him. He was holding onto them so hard they might bruise if he let them live long enough to see it.

“I-I’ll go, I won’t — I won’t come back after I bring the drive.” He was begging. Begging. A person that had considered themselves strong willed was so afraid of dying at his hands that they begged. It was horrifying to imagine that they would die here and no-one would know. They would be a missing person for decades, plastered on milk cartons for eternity. “You’ll never see my face again.”

Graves held his gaze for a moment longer before he let go, little red fingerprint shaped marks littering his jawline, all red from being squeezed. He looked somewhat pleased with the markings, inspecting them for a moment before he stepped away, the eerie silence somehow doing much more in the way of intimidation than the physical violence had. His eyes shifted to them as he left the room once again, the door slamming, leaving Coda in complete silence once more.

He didn’t want to die. Not here, not like this. But what choice did he have?

His thoughts raced as the silence overcame the room, heavy on his heart and mind. Was he going to kill him? He understandably couldn’t let someone with sensitive information like security codes go running, but did he deserve to die for taking a contract? He wasn’t sure where his head was at but he knew where his mind was: in the lowest part of his thoughts, thinking the absolute worst.

He’d kill him.

Probably slow and torturous, see if he can get any more information out of him before he finally gives him the sweet release of death, but even then? He’d probably draw it out. It was just a nightmare in their mind for now, a horrible thought of what could possibly occur, but they were still scared it would become a reality.

It was a long while — how long he didn’t know — before Graves opened the door, something more like concern on his expression than anything else. They had to have looked a mess, disheveled from lack of sleep and stress, green eyes tired and hazy. Coda’s gaze shifted from his boots up to him where he stood in the doorway, holding something small in his hand.

“You weren’t lyin’.” He spoke, stepping a bit closer to show him the drive in hand, that godforsaken little piece of plastic that had gotten him into this mess. “Nothin’ on here about who sent it, not at first glance. I’ll have t’get a better look.”

“…you went to my apartment? My roommate, he —"

“Not me, no. And don’t worry, my boys didn’t bother the kid, they just went for the drive.” He sat down across from him in the other metal chair once more, rolling the drive over between his fingers. “I read your file, too, Coda.”

“Oh, yeah? Find anything good?” His tone was somewhat teasing despite his exhaustion, voice scratchy from dehydration. “I’m sure there’s a fuckup highlight reel in there somewhere.”

“You’re 20.”

“21 in a few months.” Coda managed a laugh, looking up at him. He was not amused.

“Fresh out of basic trainin’, and this is what you get yourself into?” He raised a brow, genuinely curious as to how and why he had gotten himself tangled up in the mess that was PMC work. “You scored high enough on the ASVAB to go to special forces and you didn’t bother. Why?”

“What do you care? Is it normal for you to play with your prey before you kill it?”

“I’m just tryin’ to understand how a young man with a bright future ends up here.” He leaned back in the chair, watching her reaction. Coda rolled his eyes at his statement and looked away slightly, only turning back when he tapped his boot with his own, garnering his attention. “Well?”

“It just wasn’t for me, too…too strict.”

“Well I can tell you have a problem with authority, don’t need to explain that."

“You asked.” He huffed, glaring daggers at him that only seemed to elicit a smile. He was smug, if nothing else.

“I did. Go on.”

“I just don’t play well with others, and I don’t…fit the mold of some SEAL Team Six bullshit.”

“So you run off on your own? Take operator contracts meant for an entire company?”

“Again, I don’t see why it matters.”

“I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Just fuckin’ kill me already.” Coda snapped at him, jerking forward slightly in the chair, causing the cuffs to dig into his wrists. This was a departure from the nearly crying, begging person he had been the day before, but an expected change. One can only be pushed so hard before fight or flight kicks in. He was reminded of the brutal pain of metal cutting in quickly, feeling the warmth of his blood dripping down his hands now.

Great, it finally broke the skin.

“You got a death wish, then, is that it?” Graves asked as he looked at them, glancing down to the droplets of blood speckling the floor behind them, where their wrists were bound. “Because nobody sane would try and break into a facility like this alone.

Maybe in the past they hadn’t been too entirely kind to themselves, but he couldn’t possibly think he was right, could he? They mulled it over in their mind for a moment, letting his words fully sink in and be processed. Was that it? Did they keep doing reckless things like this for some deep-seated, unsated desire for self sacrifice? Maybe it was just a lack of self preservation, but they truthfully had never looked at it that way. It was always a positive trait to be so headstrong, but when he worded it that way it came into a negative light.

“Why are you even askin’ all this if you’re just gonna kill me? You told me I wasn’t leavin’ here, so what the hell’s your angle?"

“I want to understand your reasonin’, that’s all. I expected to find you at a big company, not all alone.”

“Why does it matter to you? I-I don’t…matter.”

“It does matter. If you’re just disillusioned with the military then I have a solution, but if you’re tryin’ to get yourself killed I got a solution, too.” Graves spoke with sincerity, something he was not certain was a good thing. He was threatening his life, sure, but he also said he had other solutions. Maybe it was worth a shot. “What’ll it be?”

“I…I just don’t think the military did for me what it does for everyone else.”

“Now I’ll have t’kill you if I tell you much more than this, but…I felt the same way.” Graves relaxed his posture slightly, his hands laced behind his head as he sort of kicked back in the chair, looking more comfortable than before. Acting like this was a normal thing, casually chatting with a man you have chained up. “That drive didn’t tell you what goes on here, I saw that much, so…let me give y’some context. This right here’s the Shadow Company PMC’s HQ.”

“So you are a merc.”

“I was the Chief of a MARSOC squad.”

Yeah, I'm fucked.

“What, you didn’t like eating crayons so you became a mercenary?” He actually laughed at his quick remark, much to his surprise. It was their way of coping with the reality that they were staring down a man who probably had more confirmed kills than they could even dream of.

“Didn’t have a taste for them. My point is…if you aren’t just suicidal you should take up work with a PMC. Different structure, different experience. Better suited for little brats like you.”

“And if I am just suicidal?”

“I’ll put a bullet in your head. You’re not leavin’ here, Coda, I already told you.” There it was. The promise that he wasn’t going to just walk away from this. He internally screamed at himself for taking that stupid job — he wouldn’t be surprised if he himself had set it up just to catch him in this trap, take out competition or make them join. It wasn’t too far-fetched of an idea to be unrealistic, and that scared him. Had he done just that? “I saw those scores, I saw your training records, you are more than capable. I’m not exactly pleased to waste that kinda talent, but it’s in your hands.” Graves spoke again, leaning forward in his seat once more, reaching a hand out to him. She flinched instinctively, but was met with the gentle touch of his finger under his chin, lifting his head up to look at him. “You wanna make somethin’ of yourself or what?”

“I…” Coda swallowed, anxiety coursing through them that would have had them shaking had they not been restrained. It was clear as day. Give in, or give up. “I-I don’t…”

“Clock’s tickin’.”

“Fine.” They complied, mostly out of fear. A newfound sense of wanting to live, not just survive.

“Is that any way to talk to your Commander?”

Fucking narcissistic bastard.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Try and sound like you mean it next time.” He retracted his hand and patted them on the cheek, stinging slightly from the strike he’d landed earlier. They looked down at the floor once he had let them go, their gaze fixed on their boots, the worn concrete below.

Worth a shot.

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