Wendy took a moment to look aside from her scope, looking at Neil as he indicated what had happened to the radios. She grimaced, but only turned back to peer through the scope. There definitely were a lot of soldiers than her and her M107 could handle, she was a good sniper, but not THAT good of a sniper. She could hear the gentle clattering of Neil's rifle, prompting Wendy to follow suit - quickly. The cavalry was quickly converging on them, and no matter how good their combined ability was - they couldn't handle a multitude of soldiers converging onto them. She grabbed her Vector, a change from her usual German-made backup weapon. The weapon was fully loaded with a bullet in the chamber, the only thing stopping her from firing it off was the engagement of the safety. She quickly followed after Neil, knowing that this was going to be the trip of their fucking lives. 

Wendy had felt that this trip had been in vain. It had about ten hours of seemingly aimless walking in a forest for an RV - an RV she was doubtful would show up to get them out of there. She had a sense of hopelessness linger about in the back of her mind, but she didn't let that deter her as she powered on, determined to get out of there. The cold had been getting worse, even though this was practically the Canadian sniper's natural element. This cold was the type of cold that always got to you, no matter who you were, where you're from, or what you're wearing. As Neil found a log to hide by, she ducked down next to him, watching the BMP float on by. As it did, Wendy could hear her heart beat out of her chest, a heavy thumping as she realized they were a bit closer to the enemies than before. "Fuck me, what are they doing here? There's a whole another battle elsewhere." She grumbled, slowly rising. 

Wendy allowed Neil to rise first - a bit of a mistake, really. She rose up after him and could quickly hear screaming in Armenian. "Shit." She simply said, as she put her gun down and raised her hands. She was trained to fight battles most other people couldn't, but even this wasn't a battle worth fighting for. She got down on her knees and put her hands on her head, her heart sinking to her feet as she processed what was going on.


---

Wendy stared right at the soldier who was holding her. Her face showed no signs of emotion, because she knew what she was signing up for upon accepting an invitation to Lima. Regardless, the prison was still pretty shitty, typical of Russian prisons. The Canadian sniper was still hung up over the fact that a group of people got the slip on them, and now they were in the middle of wherever, being roughed by a Russian soldier. This wouldn't be as bad as what would come later in the interrogation, unfortunately. She heard Neil be punched in the stomach, which was never a nice sound to hear. Soon enough, she was being dragged out of the prison, in the midst of a five man MVD team. As if being captured wasn't bad enough, now they were going to be interrogated by the FSB, notorious for their information gathering methods. 

She was pondering on whether or not she really should've fought off those soldiers, even though she had a very good chance of dying. It was a way better fate than being interrogated by the FSB, especially as a person of her background. She was thrown into the back of a car, grunting gently as she slammed against the side of it. However, the situation quickly defused as she realized who exactly was behind the mask. It was nobody but their local Russian, Zhenya. Wendy flashed a smirk and shook her head, before readjusting herself to be a bit more comfortable.

Wendy sat by quietly, staring at Zhenya as they wondered what exactly they were doing in the back of a car with a group of Russians. It had been a very odd experience as a matter of fact. She had gone from being petrified, to being relieved, to being paranoid out of her mind. She didn't know if Zhenya was there to help, or he went back to the Ruskies. Either way, she was sort of reluctant, and eager at the same time to see what was going to happen to the pair.