Quiet Hate

The Team

My first evening on base went smoothly enough. I did an incredible deep clean of my new house and went furniture shopping for a new couch and a bed frame. I decorated with the few things I had from my old house and made plans to get more.

Finally done, I sit, satisfied on my couch, bowl of ice cream in my lap, when the doorbell rings.

"God," I mumble to myself. I don't like company.

It's Price at the door, so I open it. He holds a casserole dish in his hands.

"Made you a little something," he says. He peels back the foil, showing a cheesy something.

I force a smile, even though I'm exhausted. "Thank you so much," I say, taking it from him. "I'll have to return it with some cookies inside."

He peers behind me. "It looks like you've settled in," Price says, nodding at the vase of flowers on my kitchen counter, visible to the right of me.

"I tried," I say, shifting the dish in my hands.

He nods. "Well, I just figured I would drop that off," he says, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll let you get some rest for tomorrow, though. Apparently they're having you watch training."

My eyebrows must shoot up to my hairline. "What? How would I know anything about that? My job is computers and whiteboards."

Price laughs. "Well, they figured it would be good for you to get involved with the tactical aspect of it."

I nod. "Alright then. Thank you for the dinner," I say.

"Of course," he says. "Enjoy your night."

"You too," I say before shutting the door.

The next morning, I wake up bright and early. I have enough time to hit the track and then grab breakfast before work, so I find myself motivated to get adjusted to the new life on base. I change quickly into workout clothes and drive to the running track on base.

I'm halfway into my run when I hear another vehicle pull up. One earbud in, I use my other ear to pay attention to the new arrival. I'm paranoid as hell.

I don't hear anyone, though, so I keep running. I hate running, actually, but I make myself do it anyway. I have to maintain mission-ready.

I push myself on the last lap, and barely stumble over the finish line before I keel over in the grass, waiting for myself to throw up. I probably shouldn't have done that.

Before I know it, I hear a car door swing open and footsteps race towards me. In my haze, I react slowly, and by the time I've stood up, someone's hands are already on me.

I look up and see a black balaclava, skull outlined in the dark. Ghost.

"Are you alright?" Ghost asks, accent thick, hands tight on my arms.

"I'm okay, a little more concerned about your creeping on me, though," I say, still annoyed with yesterday.

"Ah. Well I saw you running and figured I would let you finish up before I intruded on the track." He removes his hands.

"Thanks," I mutter, wiping a hand across my forehead. "Well, I'll see you later," I say, walking off, leaving Ghost on the track behind me.

I thank the Lord himself that there is a coffee shop on base. It's cute, small, and has options. I order an iced latte and head back to my house.

Once I've changed into my uniform, I feel a little bit better for the day. The run-in with Ghost was subpar, but hopefully I can prove myself in more... academic manners, rather than physical. I can't stop thinking about how embarassing it is that he saw me struggle with barely three miles. My pale skin turns pink as I double-check my hair in the mirror. Perks of being blonde, I guess.

I get to work a good thirty minutes before scheduled, approaching my desk with some new supplies I got yesterday from the store. A note is on it with a room number, and a time: an hour from now, I'm supposed to meet the team at the training center. Great.

A few members from my operations team approach me with a few menial tasks they are working on. I finish them quickly in my nerves to see Task Force 141 in action. I leave soon after, getting to the training center twenty minutes before time. I take off my cap and walk inside.

I quickly locate the room number and take a seat in the bleachers. It's a glorified gym, but the walls are padded. And there's a net in front of the bleachers.

Well, this is definitely a different level than my last job. I laugh to myself, quickly wiping the smile off my face when Price walks in with Soap.

"Good morning, beautiful," Soap says, Scottish accent thick in his words. I can't help but favor him and Price. They're nice to me.

"Good morning," I say, and they head out onto the floor, doing some dynamic stretches that are honestly kind of funny-looking.

Karim walks in next, plopping down next to me. "Are you ready to see us in action?" she asks, smiling.

"I'm a little nervous, actually," I say. "I don't know what to expect."

She nudges me with her shoulder. "Well, cheer me on, will you?"

I agree, and then she joins the other two.

Ghost walks in next, and my cheeks flush pink again with embarrassment remembering this morning. God, why couldn't I just be a better runner?

He ignores me, going straight to the group. I look down at my watch. Five minutes left until the agreed start time. König still hasn't made an appearance.

Two minutes till, König walks in. I flush again, this time, in something that probably isn't embarrassment.

Much to my dismay, he has on a tight black compression top with black basketball shorts, and is wearing compression shorts underneath. Mask on, as always, but it doesn't look out of place with Ghost here. He looks fucking huge. I hate how I notice his arms, or the confident way he walks.

My embarrassment turns to irritation. God, he's so cocky, isn't he?

"Flora," Soap calls. "Pay attention." He smirks, and I smile back. I notice König's head turn to the side slightly as I do. Weird.

I hear a countdown, and Ghost and Karim, now in the center, start to fight. I really don't know what's going on, just that there are some impressive moves, agile tactics, and that Karim is definitely winning. I can't help but clap when she gets Ghost in a headlock, her knee locked around his midsection.

Next is Soap and Price. As friendly as they were a moment ago, there's nothing but blows, kicks, and other quick movements I can't name now. Price wins. I clap for him, too.

After a water break, where Karim - who's asked me to call her Farah, she and Price return to the floor. König has still yet to move from his crossed-arms position in the corner.

The two fight for a while. It's high-pressure, and when Price wins, I feel disappointed. I clap for the both of them, and then Price does some more stretches. König remains unmoved.

Farah returns to her spot next to me. "König is usually the odd one out, since he only just now joined. We realized it's best for only one of us to fight him."

"Why?" I ask, but the countdown from Ghost has begun.

At one, König strikes.