Chapter Text
Deep within the Eshtaol Forest, Israel. June 18th, 2018.
In the dark, a woman’s shaky hands pause from a box of wires and inserts a flash drive into the computer on the desk, clicking “import all files”. As the files load, the hands then continue to fiddle with wires within a radio, working frantically to find a signal. The whirring of the signal finder made the tinker sigh in relief. She places the dirty, worn headphones on, leaving one ear out, and twirling the dial slowly. Once she reaches an active signal, she breathes out a shaky breath. “Hello? Hello? Does anybody copy?” She asks, doing her best not to be loud. It took a few seconds before a response.
“This is Heatwave with the U.S Navy. Who is this and how are you reaching this channel? It is a secure emergency network.”
The woman teared up, sighing. She cleared her throat. “U-uhm this- this is Lieutenant Deidre Masters, callsign Nightshade. I have been captured, and have made my way to this radio. I can’t be long-“ the aforementioned “Heatwave” interrupted.
“-very funny. Lieutenant Masters died in combat 3 years ago. What is your name?” The voice asked sternly. Deidre groaned as she responded.
“This is Lieutenant Masters. I am not dead but I’m probably close to it. I am somewhere in the Eshtaol forest, in Israel. Near Ta’oz and Neve Shalom. My coordinates are.. roughly 31.8000° North and 34.9838° East, give or take 50 miles. I’m about to get this place blown to bits, I’m gonna need search and rescue, ASAP.,” Lt. Masters spoke in haste, breathing heavily. The voice on the other end of the signal changed.
“This is Rear Admiral Patson. Can you tell me who your commander is?”
I literally just said I don’t have much time
Another sigh came from Deidre. “My Commander was you, Admiral Ron Patson. Call sign Boomerang. At least when you were a captain. That’s who my commanding officer was sir. 3 years ago. I’m in dire need here. My location is within a 50 mile radius of 31.8000° North and 34.9838° East. Within the next 24 hours, this facility is going down. Send search and rescue. ASAP.”
Deidre heard footsteps coming down the corridor and she snatched the now-full flash drive from the computer and quickly re-wires the radio and climbs back up into the vent where she came in through, making her way back to her cell.
She carefully climbed out of the floor-height vent and re-screwed the screws onto the vent panel with an old, bent bobby pin with a rubber band. Deidre rolled over onto her flat, hard mattress on the ground with dirty, worn blankets on top of it. She heard the heavy, iron doors open to the hallway as she flipped her blanket on top of herself, pretending to sleep, including slowing her breathing. Her lungs ached in agony as she forced herself to slow her breathing.
“Wake up!” a rough voice called in through the small window to the room.
Deidre had been there long enough to understand the Hebrew spoken, making her pretend to be drowsy and awoken. “Hmm?” She asked, frowning as she looked up at the big burly man who wore a ski mask to obscure visibility of his face. She heard more Hebrew, following the man out of the cell. Her wrists were soon met (once again) with zip ties, which stung the never-healing ligature wounds that resided on her wrists. She was pushed back to the room. The one with a camera, the room with the chair, the weapons and the tools. The room where she had been tortured every day. For information she refuses to give.
The Hebrew-to-English translator stood by the camera, hands behind her back as she held a blank, dead stare into space. This was normal. Achima, as Deidre had learned her name, would always avoid looking at Deidre during the sessions. Trying to ignore the torture that would ensue, just trying to do her job as translator.
-Time Skip to the next morning-
Deidre’s body was sore, but today was the day. She listened to the footsteps that went around the halls, each guard had different steps. It’s roughly 7am based on which guard is on duty. She just needs to wait until the next shift before “breakfast”. That’ll be when.
It took nearly forever for guards to switch shifts, but Deidre silently turned the screws of the vent, before quietly retreating into it, clipping a paperclip to a bolt; this way, the vent door looked like it was shut. The battered, wounded, and exhausted Lieutenant made her way through the vent channels, and to the boiler room of the facility. She knew the guards would look for her soon.
Those bastards better be on their way.
Hopping down from the vent, she lands onto one of the guards, snapping his neck before he could make any noise. She hated this. She hated needing to kill people just to get out of here. More blood on her hands.
Deidre tiptoed barefooted to a corner, and hidden in an old crate was the igniter to her gas-system bomb she made. She worked on it for roughly a few months. After two years of gathering supplies. This was it. Her way out. If she didn’t die.
The woman walked to the middle of the boiler room, placing down the igniter with the rope attached. Soon she turned on all of the gas lines and electrical switches, to increase chances of electrical fires. She grabbed the igniter and the gun off of the guard’s body, slowly and silently making her way to the roof of the building. Which was not far off of the ground, since a majority of the facility was underground.
Deidre heard the sirens of the building going off. Shit. Gotta be fast. She placed the trailing ignitor to the open vent of the facility outside. There were guards running out of the building at the ground, yelling and shooting at her. The worn down woman winced as she ran, in pain from last night’s session. The Navy Lieutenant shot as many guards as possible, aiming for the head. Missed a few, she was rusty, but made do with what she had. She ran, jumping off of the 20-foot-above-ground building, rolling out of it to absorb impact. Deidre’s training kicked in as climbed up onto a Boulder, before she aimed the gun at the igniter. She fired off, allowing the gunpowder to catch the rope and gas, lighting the building up. With all gas lines on, the fires went through every part of the building.
She was blown back off of the Boulder from the blast, debris hitting her, and she rolled down a hill, hitting branches, rocks, and various sharp plants. By the time she stopped rolling, Deidre heard a helicopter, and muffled voices that were barely heard over the ringing in her ears. Then, it all went black as she lost consciousness.