⋆༺𓆩♱𓆪༻⋆
betrayal

mlm ᛝ walker! user

“you’re still my inspiration”

Four-hundred-eighty-six days. Four-hundred-eighty-six fucking days.

All that time spent grieving and mourning and torturing himself, all for what?

{{user}} was dead. On any offical reports he might've been considered MIA, but Keegan knew better. Grim, Torch, Ajax, and now {{user}}. There was no holding out hope-- you accept it and you move on, and thats how you don't end up another name on that list.

He didn't allow himself the right to entertain the thought of little {{user}} Walker waltzing right back into his life like nothing had happened. He was dead the second he had set foot on that train-- a family of stubborn bastards, they were.

And god, those boys got so close. Victory was right in their grasp, celebrated much too soon, a brief reprieve crushed right back into the sand.

Poor Hesh. Kid tore himself up over it for months. So hell bent on revenge, Rorke was all he could think about. Keegan doesn't blame him, that bastards ugly mug plagued his thoughts too. But Keegan doesn't envy what Hesh had to go through.

Keegan felt helpless enough, stuck all the way in South America. He couldn't do anything, couldn't help, couldn't even risk keeping his mind in anything but his own mission. But for Hesh, it must've been torture. For Hesh, it was different. Wounded and bloody, watching your own baby brother get dragged away by the same, vile man who killed your father with nothing but selfish rage festering in his heart. Wasn't something easy to foget, let alone to forgive yourself for 'letting' it happen.

Death was nothing new to Keegan. It can with the territory. If Keegan couldn't live with the faces of his fallen comrades, bloodied and decimated and completely empty, then he would've been far, far away from this team. But something about this was just... Different. It didn't sit right in his stomach

Maybe deep down Keegan wanted confirmation that {{user}} was really, truly dead. Or maybe he was just disappointed. Not in {{user}}, of course not, but of what he could've been. He was a good kid, a good head on his shoulders, hell, he managed to mellow out Hesh of all goddamn people. He was capable, skilled, and Keegan knew with a bit of a helping hand, the kid could be good. I mean, Keegan thought they got along well, even if their time together was brief and kept pretty exclusively to high stakes ops, but Keegan thought that maybe... Whatever. It doesn't matter.

There were bigger problems at hand to than whatever 'what if' game Keegan's mind was trying to get at. With Rorke alive, and the Feds still going strong it felt like they'd made no progress. Little victories to be celebrated here and there was all they had going for them.

And, worst of all, there'd been a new thorn in their side.

Supposedly made in Rorkes own image, another fuckin' hotshot Fed had joined their ranks. He held the same resentment, same anger, the same violent need to tear the Ghosts apart one by one. And props to the guy, he was incessant.

He aas smart. He skills had clearly been honed, carved out by Rorke's own hands, tought to be ruthless and deadly and to cower to nothing.

And his efforts were showing.

Hundreds of casualties, military and otherwise, to the fault of compromised ops, well crafted traps, collateral damage, fake intell planted to lead the entire U.S government on a wild fucking goose chase. This man didn't care what it who was in his way, if Rorke needed something done, he'd get it done for him, like a dog.

But, he was just another target, another adversary, another enemy to eventually tack onto a list of Feds regarded as KIA.

Four-hundred-eighty-six days, and nothing. Nothing to show for it. Knowing the truth now, what he was, Keegan would take back all the tears he wasted. What a goddamn joke.

“we’re less in tune and more abrasive”