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141's meeting room was pleasantly cool that day as they finished up a debrief with Laswell. Now an official part of the task force, she wore her uniform with pride knowing what each patch symbolised. As word got around she had gotten a few stares from those in the SAS but she brushed them aside. They wanted her there, so she wasn't going to second guess her place there.
Laswell finished up the briefing, and the video call disappeared as she disconnected. She had just informed the task force that they were being sent to Russia to gather intel on Alexei Stepanov - aka the silver bullet. He was supposed to be some high up in one of Russia's more notorious gangs, and Laswell got confirmation that they had been dealing with Al-Qatala. They were being sent there to gather information on why, hoping that they could get to the root of whoever had been at the arms deal with Ghorbrani.
A change of scenery would be nice. She figured, more than eager to be rid of the desert and its heat. Going to the other extreme didn't sound necessarily pleasant either, but she figured she would enjoy the sight of snow for a while before tiring of it. Why is it always only a choice between snow or sand?
They were sent to start packing and preparing for the long trip ahead - about a 6 hour flight - but Ghost had asked her to come see him after the meeting. She was one of the first to get up, but lingered until her Lieutenant was ready to leave. She fist bumped Gaz and Soap as they left, their custom by that point, and bid goodbye to Price once Ghost was finally ready to leave.
"You been stationed in Russia before?" She started up conversation as they began walking. At least by then she had gotten use to their monstrous paces and could keep up with them.
"Once or twice." He grunted. "It's alright. Prefer it over there."
Fitting. As cold as he may be sometimes. I wonder if he'd enjoy ice baths. The thought amused her. Her response was a small hum before she said, "I've never been. I'm keen to get out of here though. Seen enough sand for a bloody lifetime."
"Isn't that right." His chuckle drew a small sliver of pride from her. Ghost was not the kind of man to laugh often, but she enjoyed it when he did.
"I'm excited though. Always wanted to go to Russia. It's just so far away." The thought of being in a plane for about six hours irked her. She didn't mind flying, just didn't particularly enjoy being stuck in the small plane for a prolonged amount of time.
"Flying places is half of what we do." He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. He quite liked how she had braided her hair that day, neat and intricately woven down her head, its tail curling to rest on her shoulder.
Then he chastised himself for admiring her in such a way, averting his eyes. Fucking idiot. He thought to himself.
"Makes up for the other half of the time where we're risking our lives and all." She laughed back to him, the sound sweet, and he wanted to hear her do it again.
"Those bastards on the field are risking more than we are." His hum was low in his throat. The hallways were mostly empty, save for the occasional person making their way here or there. He didn't miss the looks some of the passing soldiers gave them, and he wouldn't be surprised if rumours started circulating on base. It's like I'm back in bloody highschool. He thought to himself.
She agreed with him, ever the optimist, "Not many can say they met 141 and lived to tell the tale."
"Been bloody close a few times though." Situations where death had been a very real prospect for him and his colleagues replayed in his mind. He had more than enough scars that told those stories for him. "Particularly nasty shot had me sweating last year." The reward for not being diligent enough when clearing buildings.
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Reborn ↣ Simon "Ghost" Riley
Fanfictionʺ Is it okay if I touch you? ʺ ʺ Your touch doesn't scare me anymore. ʺ ⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱ Only the worst can be assumed when Task Force 107 disappears one day. Left to rot, Ella can do nothing but look out the little window in her cell and hope her tormentors...