Chapter Text
There was no nice way to describe the task force members as they stumbled out of the chopper and onto the tarmac.
There was a noticeable limp in Soap's step, Gaz was still pressing an ice pack onto his wrist, and Roach looked like he would collapse any second. It was quite obvious that he would choose to sleep on the first horizontal surface he was allowed to lie down on.
Ghost was clenching and unclenching his hand, which told Price that his lieutenant was not as calm as he otherwise seemed. That hell of a mission they just finished had taken a toll on him, who was heavily involved in the reconnaissance beforehand, and Ghost was now trying to figure out how things could have gone so astray.
Captain Price himself left the helo after a last check with the pilot before looking at his team. Beaten, bruised and trying very hard to stand in line and not just curl up on the floor to sleep.
A heavy sigh leaves him before he nods towards the base, promising rest and decent food on a good day.
"We've all returned alive, boys. We will go over everything, but not today. Write your reports and commit them to me, but first... Good job, lads. Eat, sleep and get your wounds checked. If I get a report from the medics that you didn't get there for treatment, I'll drag you there myself. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
The answer came in unison but with so little enthusiasm that Price felt even the last bit of motivation leave him as well. He watched the sergeants stumble towards showers and beds first, before turning to Ghost.
"We'll talk about the wrong information that was given to us tomorrow. I'll ask Laswell to check the informant again on her end as well."
The tall lieutenant walks beside his captain into the base, nodding once.
John could almost see the suppressed anger about that Intel radiating off Ghost. He would certainly tear the informant in half, should he be able to get his hands on him.
"I'll double-check my reconnaissance notes on what we were given wrong."
With a grim smile, Price nods slowly. "Do that. But first... we should all sleep."
Ghost nods again before turning around sharply and making his way to the showers.
Price sighs again deeply, trying to get his body to relax, but he feels like this is something bigger, and he's not yet figured out how big. So he would first send the message to Kate and HQ before he would be able to take care of himself. Become the whole John Price again and not just the Captain, focused on finishing his mission. After a good night's rest, he would be able to concentrate on the task force and its future.
It's two days later when Soap, always the last one to submit his reports, leaves his office. John only needs to flip briefly through the pages, and he finds the same issues the other team members had already pointed out. They were stretched too thin when they were attacked and had no chance to fight without the possibility of being attacked from behind. It's what made them unable to cover the ground efficiently and quickly.
Again, it comes down to the same problem: they needed more members. That's why John got Roach added to the team. The sergeant, while being even more quiet than Ghost and most of the time only communicating through sign language, had already helped a lot. But still, it seemed they needed more people to fill the ranks. Making it possible for him to give commands and to attack from more points without sending people in alone.
But they needed people they could trust – every one of them. Roach was the first one in a long time to pass Ghost's background check and got along with everybody.
A low chuckle escapes Price, remembering the sheer awe on Soap's face when the Scot told him in a hushed tone that Ghost complimented Roach. That was the ultimate ghost seal of approval if you asked anyone on the task force. Soap was social enough to give almost everyone a chance, and Gaz tried to find a way to work with anybody even when he did not like them around the team.
But they weren't so lucky with other soldiers joining their rank. They had those who tried to sell themselves better than they actually were until they botched a mission. And they had some that left as soon as they were confronted with the whole team and the stakes that were in place. The biggest part of possible additions either didn't make it through the screening tests by Ghost, or Price didn't feel like they would be a good fit into the team, even after watching them for an extended period to figure their character out.
The task force was full of characters, and it became increasingly difficult to find a good match.
His ringtone snaps John out of his thoughts, and for a second he considers not picking up. But once he reads the name on the display, he quickly dismisses the thought and takes the call.
"Kate, that was faster than I thought you would find the lying informant. Thought you said he went missing?"
He leans back in his chair, tossing Soap's report onto the stack with the rest. Price can hear voices in the background of Laswell, knowing she is at work surrounded by people tripping over themselves to complete their tasks.
"Hello, Captain. I'm afraid he's still lying low somewhere, so that's still a dead end. But I'm calling about your... toolbox. You told me you were missing a few things? So I'm calling to let you know that I'm willing to lend you my favourite knife. I'm sure you will be satisfied."
For a moment, Price is stunned into silence. Toolbox? Favourite knife? But he's still hearing people talking around Laswell, so he's sure that she's deliberately using code. The only things he's truly missing and that she does know about are new task force members. If she's not straightforward about sending the new recruit to join, then they couldn't be an active soldier, or at least not actively in the files.
But if she's calling them her favourite blade, the possible addition to the team already has some credibility. But her knife? How literally did she mean that? Were they ex-CIA?
"... Of course, that's... very kind of you. How do you plan to send it?"
To his surprise he can hear Laswell audibly giggle. "You'll see. I've put all information on its maintenance with it. Good luck getting used to it."
After that, she simply ends the call. Price slowly puts away his phone, running one hand down his face. So she would send him a possible new member for the task force? And he would not get a file beforehand? Price was fine with it, since he wouldn't be taking them on a mission without getting some kind of file or more information. But an unknown candidate made him more likely to start on the wrong foot with Ghost.
And Price would not take anyone in without his lieutenant's approval.
Another sigh leaves him, hoping that his trust in Laswell and the soldier being her pick would be something Ghost at least would consider a possible addition to the task force.
But how to break the news to the most paranoid member of his team?
Ghost himself was restless enough to visit the training grounds. He had spent the first day sleeping more than usual, tending to his wounds and writing that report Price asked for. But he couldn't sit around and watch TV like Soap and Gaz did, bickering about sports. Roach was not interested in sports but did enjoy the atmosphere. He also had started a list about who was winning the arguments. And that made them bicker even more about it.
Ghost had no problems on some days, simply sitting in his corner of the rec room, reading a book and blocking out the voices. But after a botched mission, everything in him irked to work out the kinks in their strategies and training. To prepare better for the next one, to strive to keep his team safe.
That's why the ghost usually worked alone. Made it easier because he only had himself to take care of. It took him a while to admit that he did like the missions with the rest. But the stakes were higher, and that made Ghost even more nervous.
His intent was to watch other soldiers on the base train, find their mistakes and make sure that he would not find them in his sergeants.
But the moment he set eyes on the group of training soldiers, Ghost noticed something off about it. The group were following their instructions, and they weren't particularly good or bad. It should have been ordinary in any sense of the word, but it wasn't.
It took Ghost a good minute to put a finger on it. The soldiers, most surely ranked private or corporal, did follow their orders for training. But instead of simply fulfilling them, they seemed almost distracted at second glance. After watching a few changes of exercises intently, Ghost also realised that even the instructor was not simply giving orders but seemed to check in with one of the soldiers from time to time. Ghost didn't recognise him, although that was not unusual for him. He did not pay that much attention to fresh recruits until he needed to do so. Life was easier that way, better not knowing them all if they had all chances in the world to never meet again in one way or another.
This soldier, though, something was different. He followed instructions like the rest, but he seemed bored. While the rest were panting and sweating, for him it seemed to be more like a casual workout. And Ghost saw something in the other soldiers' eyes he was all too familiar with. Admiration. Respect. Fear.
Not only the other soldiers but the instructor as well watched the soldier closely and tried to copy the ease of his movements. He had to have quite a bit of experience and even more training for him to look that bored by the workout.
Ghost watched until the instructor ended the training, and his eyes followed the group that headed to the shower. The soldier was treated like a part of the group; they joked with him, but still it felt like they treated him differently.
The lieutenant was not sure if it was simply his normal paranoia or if something was truly off, but he was never one to not go out and get his hands on the files of the people around him. Without wasting more time, he made his way to get the list with all the new recruits to identify the one that seemed so strange. For a first reconnaissance run, Ghost would be okay with just a name and his entry scores. What rank he held and his military past. If something stood out to him as strange, he would dig deeper and tell Price about it. But for now, Ghost had something to take his mind off the last mission.
Soap followed Roach loosely through the mess hall. He had won today's argument over sport – Roach gave him the point after Gaz got a bit too heated when defending some bollocks rule that just made no sense to Soap – and so he had to stay and clean the rec room of their task force. Roach and Soap decided to get here early, since rumour had it that today there was pizza. A better one of the only half-decent food options. One of the cooks was stationed in Italy for two years, and everyone profited from that.
He had fallen behind a bit – Roach didn't care what kind of pizza he got, but Soap did and had stayed to mull it over. When he had taken his portion, he looked up and scanned the room. Something in the mood had shifted, and he quickly found out why.
Two of the new recruits had tried to sit down at the table that was usually used by the task force.
Who had been away for quite some time, so there was no use in leaving the table empty for that time. But now being back, Roach had made his way over there and sat his tray down at the same time as three other soldiers.
The air wasn't hostile but quite awkward. All four looked rather displeased, and of course Roach wasn't going to talk. Soap hurried over to smooth everything over and talk to the other soldiers. But another one of the new recruits stepped up just a moment before Soap reached the table and put a hand on one of the soldiers' shoulders.
"Something wrong here?"
The normal thing to expect would have been a simple 'no', or maybe if they were especially ballsy, they would complain. But he did not expect the three to freeze and stare at the newcomer the same way a rabbit would freeze up in front of a fox.
The soldier, however, didn't seem too surprised and nodded at another table where another group of soldiers sat already and his abandoned tray was resting.
"You missed our table; we've kept your spots open."
When he took his hand back, all three simply nodded and scrambled to get to their places at the table he had pointed out.
Now, without the need to come to Roach's aid, Soap approached the table slowly and with a relaxed smile on his face. The new soldier had diffused any sort of tension that could have formed, and Soap did appreciate it.
Better to have some soldiers on base that would be good company than those that wanted to prove themselves by butting heads with the task force
His smile was returned, enough to make him hold out his hand.
"Thanks for that. I'm Soap; this is Roach. Ye new on base?"
The other one shook his hand once, nodding at him and Roach respectively, before answering. "Very much so. I'm Blade. I haven't been able to meet the famous 141 in person, but there is lots of talk about you guys. Sorry for the thing with the table; hope you don't mind we used it in the past week?"
While he looked at Roach, who only shook his head, Soap found it pretty hard to figure out where Blade would have come from. The man had no accent to help the Scot on that matter. After Roach next to him shot him a glare, he cleared his throat before answering.
"Nae bother. Better to use it when ye needed it."
Blade nodded and took that as his sign to leave. At least Soap thought so, but the man turned around after a few steps and looked at Roach. He shot a grin at the soldier before signing something quicker than Soap's limited knowledge in sign language could decipher. Roach, on the other hand, had no issues and broke out into an uncharacteristically grin before signing something back. Shorter, but it was enough to make Blade laugh and nod back before the soldier joined his squad at the table.
"What did he sign?"
Soap sat down with Roach, quite curious about the other soldier. Not many people knew sign so fluently, and even fewer around here used it so effortlessly with Roach, with the latter responding.
Roach himself only took a bite of his pizza and simply shrugged his shoulders. But there was a glimmer in his eyes that made the Scot grumble. That was usually a sign that Roach was up to something and not willing to share. Most of the time he had swiped snacks without the rest of the team knowing. Or last time he spiked Soap's tea with – well, soap.
And that Roach wasn't willing to tell on Blade? That told Soap that the lad meant trouble. And Soap would be lying if he said that it didn't make him curious.
---
After your first run-in with the task force, you finish your meal while only sporadically engaging in the conversation the soldiers around are holding. The first two soldiers with the same ranks as you that you met on base.
John 'Soap' MacTavish and Gary 'Roach' Sanderson. You had gotten some information on them like nationality and a few of their past achievements. Not enough to know them but definitely enough to recognise them.
You were curious about the 141, but the talk around you had gotten more heated. So you do try to concentrate on what the soldiers around you are talking about.
It's once again one of their favourite topics: their accomplishments that got them here. They were all awfully happy to get into the fight and change the world. You held yourself back from bursting their bubble; you had been in this longer than them and knew that their hands were bound when it came to the really important decisions.
You figured that out the hard way when you reached the rank of Sergeant. And with that bitter knowledge won and good friends lost, you left the military to join a PMC. You thought you would be able to do more with them, but in the end you had been another cog in the machine. And added to the nasty food and yelled orders came a lot more backstabbing in the PMC. So when the CIA found you and gave you a way out for one mission, you took it. Not knowing it was Laswell who had seen your performance and wanted to see how you would hold up in the field of her tactical planning.
One mission became two, then three, until you simply stayed where she told you there was a free bed and some food. Officially you were still a loaned soldier from the PMC, but you got your rank of Sergeant back and hadn't heard from your old boss. You were pretty sure Laswell simply bought you out of the company and used your status to get through some red tape that she otherwise couldn't ignore.
Not that you truly minded that; you had learnt quite a lot of languages on her missions and polished them enough that no accent would betray your wiped past and tell someone which country you came from. Real name long gone, and the only thing left was your call sign, Blade. If Laswell knew your real name, she knew even better to never use it and wipe it from anywhere she found it. It was buried along with your past when you joined the PMC and never looked back.
You finished your pizza faster than the soldiers around you and excused yourself from the table. They all gave a nod and wished you a good evening. By now they knew that you weren't keen on talking about the past and that you also needed some time for yourself. What they didn't know was how you spent your evenings. You were sure that they had wild guesses about your hobbies, but you would not destroy their fantasies. At least you hoped for some fun choices on their end.
After returning your empty tray, you have a chance to sneak a glance at the two task force members again, Roach and Soap. The Scotsman is focused on annihilating his food, but the other ones' eyes follow you until you're out of the mess hall.
Proud of your choice to learn sign language and even more so that your joke had been correct and well received.
You had wanted to test the waters because the thought of joining a team with no sense of humour made you physically unwell. But at least one guy shared your humour, so that's something.
Laswell had given you their names or call signs, respectively, and warned you about Ghost and that he would likely go and try to figure out about your past. But she also had told you a few things about their past missions, and that had been enough to catch your interest. Staying on base for the last couple of days had brought up even more things that the other soldiers were keen on sharing.
It seemed to you that the task force was something for the other soldiers to look up to. And you could understand that nothing was more impressive than someone excelling at their field of expertise.
With your goal of slipping into the gym for some workout without the need to be consistently stared at, you almost don't see the soldier kneeling in front of a pile of what used to be a trash bag until you pass by him. But you hear him curse under his breath, and after figuring out that he is in need of assistance, you sigh and make your way to him.
You are no altruistic person, but a ripped trash bag was some sort of nasty thing you didn't want someone to clean alone. Also, that could be a good opportunity to talk to someone without others being around. Most information gathered that way was more useful than the normal talks when you were in groups.
"Need a hand?"
It's only when the kneeling soldier almost makes a jump back that you do recognise him. Sergeant Kyle Garrick, or Gaz, is also a task force member. And he did do his rumours justice; he was definitely good-looking.
"Bloody hell! Give a man a warning, yeah? Didn't hear you coming."
Snickering, you squat down next to him and assess the damage. The bag seemed intact but like it slipped out of his grasp and opened.
"Sure thing. Next time I'll warn you before I spook you. Need me to wear a bell?"
While you reach out to help him gather some of the trash that had fallen out, Gaz sighs and continues to also collect the open candy wrappers.
"Guess that would be something... And thanks. Bloody bag slipped, and I couldn't catch it in time."
Following his line of sight, you look to his wrist that's bandaged for support. That would explain how the bag slipped from his hand when his wrist needed rest. Soldiers were notorious for not following medical advice – you would know.
"Messed up your wrist in the last mission?"
Garrick nods with an almost solemn look at the bandages. He's not hiding how bothered he is by it. "Yeah, Doc said it's gonna be alright but needs more time. Captain excluded me from training for the rest of the week. It's still shit though."
That sounds like your personal horror. Getting hurt, being excluded from all training and being forced to take out the trash only for it to fight back? No wonder the Sergeants look so down.
You curse the side of you that is still trying to help anyone you could help – the one that got you into more trouble than it was worth. But still you stuff the last piece of trash into the bag before carefully closing it with a tight knot and giving it back to him.
Noticing him staring at you, you smile as you stand up and hold out a hand to help him get back on his feet. As he takes your hand and offers help, you try and change the subject as you pull him to his feet.
"Can't really say anything nice about a hurt wrist and being forced to wait it out. But why are you on trash duty? Did you get that bored already?"
Curiously you raise an eyebrow as you notice him blushing at your question.
"Ah... That's... Lost an argument with Soap about sport. Next time he's gonna lose and has to take out the trash; I didn't get it instead of training or something like that."
That's a relief. For a second you did question that sort of approach as a recuperation method, but if it's something between the two, you wouldn't stop Soap and Gaz.
"Well, as long as it's fine with you. Do you want help to get that sorted out?"
While you are not particularly keen on taking out someone else's trash, you also still feel sorta sorry for the hurt sergeant in front of you. Maybe even more so because he's still blushing, and that doesn't do anything to make him look less pretty.
Gaz takes a second before he shakes his head and takes the bag with his healthy arm.
"No, that's alright. Thanks for the offer... I'm Gaz, by the way."
Grateful for not having to go back to the mess hall to take out the trash, you smile back at him. That's one awkward way back dodged.
"They call me Blade. Nice to meet you. Guess I'll see you around?"
Gaz smiles again but stays quiet.
Not wanting to stay around in awkward silence, you take that as your cue to leave.
First you make your way to your room to pick up your stuff to go train and shower afterwards. After that you trot over to the gym, where Laswell had organised a key for you so that you could train when it was closed to most of the other soldiers.
In the very moment you set down your bag on a bench, you feel that there's someone else in the gym.
But even after looking around, you don't see anybody training here. Any normal person would just chalk it up to a weird feeling and carry on. But you're a soldier, and you have learnt to not let anything slide that concerns you.
You make your way through the dimly lit gym, carefully and slowly taking out one of the knives you always carry on your person. And under normal circumstances you would have found the other one in the gym first. But this wasn't normal in any way.
And while your reflexes were good, his stealth was better. You don't hear him until he's right behind you. The first strike you more feel than actually know is coming. While you are able to turn around to block him, you are not able to do that for the second strike.
Not only because he's fucking strong but also because the mask is a dead giveaway on who your attacker is. Ghost.
And while your head tries to understand what the hell is going on, Ghost uses your distraction to land a hit and shoves you against a wall to cut off any escape routes.
A groan leaves you as your back collides with the wall, and normally you would have at least struggled to get free. But not only did you feel a knife being pressed against your neck, but you are no idiot. That was Ghost in front of you. THE Ghost.
Even before leaving the PMC, there were whispers around about him, the man with the mask. The ghost of Verdansk. He was a legend and something that made newbies and enemies alike afraid of the dark. He was someone you didn't see but still knew about.
And he was about to murder you in a shitty on-base gym. Great.
With a defeated sigh, you lean back, and following the unspoken command of his hand gripping your arm, you release the knife from your grasp. Not like you wanted to fight back; you were sent here to join the task force. Was that Ghost's way of declining, or were you truly about to get mugged?
"You should be more aware of your surroundings."
What? You were expecting something along the lines of 'I am ghost, you set foot in my gym. Prepare to die.' Your brain is not able to process what he's trying to tell you. So answer in a way you hope is at least polite enough to make a potential death a quick one.
"I'm sorry, sir?"
It feels more like a question, but you can't really help it. There is indeed a lot of confusion swirling around your head. But the sharp knife pressing against your throat is quick in clearing your thoughts.
He has his arm against your chest to stabilise the knife, while his other hand is still gripping your dominant arm. You figure you could still kick him or use the wall as leverage to use more power to shove him off, but you're not interested in picking a fight with him. He's also quite a bit taller, and that does add to the intimidation.
Ghost himself tightens the grip around your arm before he speaks again. His voice is calm and low, and you're sure he's got a British accent.
"There's only an empty file on you in this base's log, Blade. No past, no real name. No entry test, no past achievements. Only your callsign 'Blade' and your rank. Care to explain?"
The first thought running through your head is that no, you don't really want to explain.
But it's pretty clear that's not an answer that Ghost is gonna accept and let you go. So you have to answer enough without actually having to tell him anything you're not willing to share about yourself.
"That's because my file is need-to-know. You're no stranger yourself to classified files. And before you ask, I was told to give it to Captain Price only. He's allowed to share what he deems necessary."
And you hope that that's not a problem in the long run, but you trust Kate. Enough to understand that she had to give some kind of information to someone she wanted you to work with.
But you didn't think that not directly sprinting to Price would come to bite you. Laswell had promised you she would call the captain, and he would be quick to contact you himself. And after you heard about the state the 141 was in after the mission, you thought that your addition to the roster would not take priority.
However, Ghost seemed to think otherwise. At least he doesn't ease up with the knife, and you feel like you can literally see the distrust in his dark eyes.
"The file you hid in your room said you're an addition to the task force. Full of information on the team. But I don't see how you could be helpful. Didn't recognise that I had been in there... Nor did you recognise me following you. So who sent you here? Where are you from? What is your goal?"
With the light coming from behind him, the eye sockets of his mask are almost fully black, making you feel like you're being interrogated by a real ghost. But you grit your teeth as you feel the sharpened edge starting to cut into your skin. So Ghost had found the file you had been reading about the 141. As much as you hated the thought that he went through your stuff, his questions meant he had not found the file on you from Laswell. You did take extra care in hiding that one.
You lean your head back lightly to be able to ease the pressure on your throat as you answer.
"I was sent by Laswell. The file is from her as well. I'm not here to hurt anyone on base; there's no need to be that paranoid to check my room constantly."
Not letting you off without answering all his questions, Ghost presses the knife back to your throat. This time with enough force that you feel one drop of blood making its way down your neck.
"Still leaves your name and where you came from up for answering. Don't make me ask again."
Under normal circumstances you knew that he would make you suffer if you didn't answer his questions. But you were in the right here. That damn file was for his captain's hands only, and you were no spy. So why the fuck did this interrogation take place when you only wanted to get some training in?
"I'm Blade; there's no other name to call me. I've got rid of it and all its attachments. I'm more than the fucking place I was born at."
There's an audible growl in your voice when you spit out an answer. The first time, you don't answer calm or collect. Why is someone wearing a skull mask trying to get a name you no longer want to hear out of you? It's not like he's printing his file and giving it out to anyone that asks.
The fear is all but gone in your eyes, and you're meeting Ghost's gaze head-on now. To your confusion, his eyes don't have that harsh and cold look to them anymore. Was that... understanding? But before you get to ponder on it, he steps back and lets go of you.
Taking a deep breath, you raise one hand and wipe the blood off your throat. It's not much, but it has stained your fingertips and the collar of your shirt. Thinking about the cleaning you would have to do, you grumble annoyed before picking up your knife and pocketing it. Only then do you look back at Ghost.
"Your strong suit is close combat? Show me."
He makes his way to the sparring mats in the middle of the room – but you do notice that he's not turning his back to you.
It's not like you could really say no to him, so you simply follow. There is some part of you that gets excited to be able to spar with Ghost. Taking your place opposite of him, your eyes are drawn to the knife he's holding. He's following your gaze and showing it to you more clearly. Only with a lot of self-control are you able to not growl.
"You've taken my knives as well?"
Answering with a shrug of his shoulders while taking a fighting stance shows you how little he takes this as a serious threat.
"I like sharp blades. If you want it back, you'll have to get it."
Well, that's better than simply clocking him on the nose; now you're able to say he asked for it. But he's taller than you, so Ghost has greater reach and possibly more strength. So Speed it is.
Since you're not in the mood to get a beating, you decide from the get-go that fighting fair is off the table. So you fake a straight blow to Ghost's head and act as if you're leaping for the knife. But instead of following through and getting the lieutenant's answer – a kick to the gut – you put your whole force into side-stepping and ram your elbow into his thigh. The one you had heard Ghost had to get bandaged in the med bay.
There is no word to describe the satisfaction of hearing him curse while you duck down to lock your feet behind the uninjured ankle of his other leg and pull.
But you underestimate the control Ghost had over his body, even in pain and falling over. Instead of falling down on his back, he's falling towards you. But while there's no way to get out from under him, you don't need more than a second to grab the arm with the knife and make sure he has to drop it. What you can't prevent is Ghost using his second arm to block his fall. And the bastard chose to land on you, making you hit your back a second time this evening.
The air is knocked out of your lungs when his arm catches his fall on your chest and you curse before that's stopped by you coughing.
To your surprise you can hear a low chuckle. But before you can look up and confirm it came from Ghost, he's already standing up again.
"You're quick on your feet, and you fight dirty. Could be interesting. You are going to give your file to Price tomorrow at 0800 sharp. At his office."
With that he leaves you lying on the floor, still coughing and trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
You would never admit how long you kept lying on that sparring mat before you were able to collect your knife and training bag. Your legs simply did not want to move.
It's after you decided to skip the workout and just take a long shower that you register that you've met the whole task force without the Captain. You survived the Ghost of Verdansk; that's some sort of achievement, right?
After a night of not that much sleep, even though you made triple sure that no, Ghost was not in your room, and yes, you did lock the door, you're heading to Captain Price.
Of course you're way too early, but that's something you could live with. The sheer dread of oversleeping and having Ghost kicking down your door made you set a few extra alarms. Just in case.
To your credit, Ghost had indeed not found the file about you that you had hidden; that was something to be proud of.
When you arrive at the office of your potentially, hopefully, maybe future CO, you can hear him talk to someone. You consider your options; you could just wait, but not only would that feel like eavesdropping, but you were also told to not be late. You can't help but remember the knife to your throat, so you raise a hand and knock.
The voices quiet down before you are allowed to enter and open the door. Inside are two men. One of them is Ghost, who looks at the clock and nods once. You're on time, and something tells you he didn't think you would be. The other one is Captain Price, who is sitting behind his desk and is looking at you.
Clearing your throat, you step towards him and hold out your file. As he reaches for it, you can sense Ghost shift closer to his captain. Possibly to get a better view of the file once Price is done with it.
"Captain Price? I'm Blade. Laswell told me to give this to you."
Opening your file and skimming over the most important points, he nods slowly. As if something just happened to fill in the last missing part of something. Your guess is that Ghost had already told him what happened yesterday.
"That does explain the call I got from her. So you're that knife that Kate has sent me?"
"I guess that's me."
And that does sound like Laswell. Instead of telling him openly about you, lending you like that does make sense. Otherwise he would have to pay you, and you're sure no one would do that without getting his hands on your file.
Price just nods, still looking through the papers you gave him. After a while he gives an approving nod before handing the file to Ghost. The tall lieutenant gives you a glance, and you know he's smirking under that mask of his. There's no need to flip him the bird; you're positive your eyes can convey that on their own.
It only takes Ghost a short moment before he looks back at Price, who is waiting for his judgement. But when the tall man nods, the captain does seem surprised for a moment.
"Well, that's settled then. You'll have to switch rooms to stay with the task force, and I'll introduce you to the lads."
Price leans back in his chair again, folding his hands and looking at you. This time with more interest, and you're not really sure why. Or rather, you don't know exactly why, but your guess is that it is Ghost's fault. It's only then that you hear a loud laugh and steps coming towards the office. A heavy sigh leaves Price while Ghost returns your file to him.
"They should be here any second."
For a moment you're left wondering if you should go and open the door since neither Price nor Ghost makes a move toward it. Luckily, you do not have to.
With an impressive amount of strength and sheer dumb luck, Soap manages to swing the door open without it smashing into the wall. But the dent in the wall behind it tells you that's not always the case.
Behind him trailing into the office are Gaz and Roach. All three of them first greet their captain before Soap spots you. He laughs before slinging his arm around your shoulder.
"Ah, there he is. Knew we would find you again; there's been lots of talk about ye between us."
Confused, you blink at the Scot before he's laughing again. Part of you wants to ask what the hell he is talking about, but before any of that, Gaz comes to your rescue.
He shoves Soap's arm from your shoulder and takes his spot between you two.
"Let the man breathe, mate. You can ask him without invading his personal space."
Using Gaz as a shield, you're able to get some distance between you and the Scot. You find yourself next to Roach, who looks at you and smiles when he sees you nodding at him. He signs quickly, asking if you're alright. You sign as you also answer out loud.
"All good, it's just a bit much this early. Thanks for the assist, though."
The last part you say to Gaz, who just grins back at you. Again, there's no way around it; he's pleasing to the eye. Not that the others aren't, but just, you wouldn't think of someone like Gaz being military if you met him in the street.
"No worries, Soap tends to be like that. Not only early in the morning."
Trying hard not to laugh as you can hear the audible and overly dramatic gasp from Soap, you just nod gravely as if Gaz just told you the saddest thing you heard all week. You put one hand on your heart and solemnly shake your head.
"I was afraid to hear something like that."
Now it's Gaz's turn to struggle with not just straight-up laughing. But you can also see that Soap is struggling with that as well.
The thing turning all of your attention to your captain is a long sigh, telling you that he's used to this kind of bickering. He's clearing his throat before speaking again.
"Glad to see that you're already familiar with each other. To make it official, this is Blade, and he's joining the team. Show him his room and take him to training with you afterwards. Blade? These three are also sergeants. This here is Ghost, my and now also your lieutenant. He's going to be testing your combat skills."
Leaning against the wall behind him is Ghost, still like a statue and watching you like a hawk. To your surprise, he's also talking before you can answer Price.
"That won't be necessary. We're already acquainted; he's good to join the regular training with the team."
While you simply nod at the questioning glance of Captain Price, you can feel the three sergeants staring at you. Soap was confused and surprised, Gaz was surprised and curious, and Roach was more knowing. As you meet his gaze, his eyes flicker down to your neck. It seems he's able to connect the dots from Ghost's answer to the wound that wasn't there the last time he saw you. Nodding once, you can't help the annoyed grumble that leaves you. Your gaze returns to your lieutenant, who's way too relaxed for what he's done.
"I'm still two knives short."
There's no question that he's smirking again under that damn mask.
"You'll live. You managed to get one back; you'll have to work twice as hard for the others."
Again, you're not far from openly swearing. Damn that masked thief. You took good care of your knives, and then he thinks he can just swoop in and take two.
Meanwhile, Soap has finally found his voice again.
"I ken ye will fit right in if that's the first meeting with L.T."
This time Gaz is laughing as well when you shoot an incredulous look at the Scot. You didn't sign up to get your stuff stolen.
"I'm sure it's going to be alright. Your new room has a better lock, so that's something to look forward to."
This time again Gaz strives to be the voice of reason and comfort, and you'll gladly take it this time. Or rather that you would take it, but Soap is definitely not used to leaving people alone. He gives off the aura of a happy Labrador.
"Oi, don't give him any ideas of becoming another shut-in. It took weeks to get Roach to join us in the rec room. Can't have that happen again!"
"I already figured out that you would be kicking down my door if I'm not on time for training."
The relaxed atmosphere makes it easy for your dry humour to show. You feel like you've known these guys for way longer, and it's easy to get what you missed while training with the other soldiers on base. Someone who's talking to you as an equal. No qualms about bickering and even less of the hesitation the younger recruits tend to show.
"Aye, of course I'll be dragging ye to training and food. Cannae have another one who keeps forgetting meals and all."
Shooting an accusing glare in the direction of Price and Ghost, who both at least have the decency to look away, you're already grinning again when Soap just huffs in annoyance.
It's then you catch Roach's eyes. He's also grinning but seems a lot more amused about the situation. But instead of saying anything, he just winks at you, making you chuckle. He may not say much, but you're still certain he's anything but shy.
"Then we maybe should go and grab breakfast before helping Blade to move his stuff?"
Following Kyle's suggestion, you intend to simply shrug. But before you're able to say anything, you feel Roach's hands on your shoulders pushing you towards the door.
Soap is already on his way out, dragging Gaz behind him.
"There should be no 'maybe' in that sentence! We're going to grab breakfast and then start the real tour of the base."
Helpless against the sergeant steering you to follow your teammates, you resort to simply snickering. Their bickering does conjure up the image of an old married couple.
It's only when you're almost out of the door that you can hear Price mumbling something. Probably only intended for Ghost to hear, but hearing it from the Captain makes you share an amused glance with Roach.
"How did any of these muppets pass selection?"