Dogs of War

Chapter 33

A/N: For those who are interested in early release, additional material and short stories, I have set up a patreon account 18+ only. I may make a non-nsfw account eventually, but at this point there is only the nsfw option available. Patreon link in my profile.

In the control room with Ghost, I pick at the plate of food I'd organised for us knowing we were going to be in here a while. I hadn't expected however to be quiet so bored. Eoth my leg in its brace up on a spare chair, I sat and listened to the exchange between Ghost and Price. There really wasn't anything I could do. My senses would have been better on the ground than listening through a headset that had no where near the capabilities I had to detect sounds. Sitting in a room with Ghost over the last week, the only thing I could smell was him at this point, and the cameras were never in the right spot for me to pick up more than what  Ghost was already capable of. As it was, I felt useless, good for only making sure my handler was eating, and breaking out of the office we'd taken over with all of its screens to take semi-regular breaks. 

My attention shifts from brooding to Ghost as he rubs his temples, mask long since taken off in the privacy we had. His eyes were shuttered closed as he huffs in annoyance. "Price, there'd nothing on the cameras. I can't just mahically make your target appear." A pause, Price speaking. "No, she can't see anything more than I can. In here, she's worse than useless." 

His words trigger a low warning growl, hackles raised, my expression darkening. His eyes glance towards me, and his own expression softens, his scent shifting towards empathy and understanding. An apology for his words as he continues to speak to Price. I retreat, understanding that he meant only confined within these four walls, I couldn't do anything in addition to the support he was already providing. Perhaps if the team split up, I could assist one group the way Ghost was doing for the whole team, but until then he was correct. Worse than useless. 

Almost as if he could scent my own emotional toil, he reaches out a hand patting my knee absently, still arguing with Price about the target location. I understand Prices frustration. We're meant to be on iverwatch, and yet our camera feed, our drones, our technology couldn't help us if we had no idea where to even begin looking for our target. The small group of soldiers had disappeared into one of the buildings, and then disappeared from that building. We'd hit a dead end. No clue where to even start looking for them. Without my nose to the ground, I couldn't hunt them down, and Ghost could only see so much using the drones.

I heard Price huff through Ghosts headset and order the team on the ground to re-group and head out. They'd make camp back at their temporary base and make a plan for tomorrows hunt. 

"Sis," I hear Shane's voice over my head set and I sit up straight. 

"Yeah?" I murmur, intent on not distracting Ghost. "Do you remember what Makarov smelled like when he took Ghost?" 

I think back over the rescue mission hard, trying to remember. "No, I couldn't differentiate between his scent and anything else. I was too focused on finding Ghost."

"Damnit," He mutters under his breath. "There's a scent here that seems vaguely familiar, but I can't pinpoint it. Was hoping you could help."

"Oh... What's it smell like?"

"Too many undercurrents to help me pick it out. So much is happening I can only really pick out hints of orange in the cologne. It keeps slipping from me like water between my fingers."

"Poetic," I hear Gaz on the other end of the line. "Maybe you should have become a poet, Clutch," Gaz teases my brother. 

"Get bent, pretty boy," Shane growls back.