Call of Duty Oneshots

Newbie (Requested Mitchell)

"Y/N Y/L/N?" the call of your name made you perk up from where you sat anxiously in a recruiting lobby.

You'd done what no one in your entire family had: requested to become a Sentinel soldier. The Sentinel military force was very secretive; practically no one knew of it. With the war beginning to wage with Atlas, a private company owned by Jonathan Irons, all militaries needed any help they could get.

"I'm here to escort you to your proof of training routine," an older man spoke with his hands behind his back.

You dipped your head and followed the man outside into another part of the base. Most recruits were kept towards the front, but you followed the man to a large building off to the right. Your hopes were high and your excitement was dangerously close to bursting.

"Gideon?" the man stopped right inside of the entrance to the large building. "The next recruit is awaiting."

"Thank you," the voice was accented from a British descent you couldn't quite place.

As the escort next to you turned on his heel and exited the building, you suddenly felt vulnerable. You could have turned and left to go back home, back to where your only future would be a boring job and men who would take advantage of you.

"Y/N," the man named Gideon had appeared in front of you, tussling you from your thoughts.

"Th-That's my name, sir."

"If you do not not pass this test, you will be sent back to your home and forbidden to ever train for any military ever again. Do you understand this? Do you want to continue? Because once you walk through these doors, you will be tested every moment and there will be no turning back."

"Yes, sir," you didn't blink, but, rather excitedly, gazed towards where the double doors led into a large room with what looked like multiple stations.

"Very well," you hinted a bit of amusement in Gideon's blue eyes. "Mitchell will watch you, judge you, grade you. Don't fail us, recruit."

Gideon suddenly shoved you into the double doors, locking you inside.

"Talk about not being able to turn back," you mumbled under your breath.

"Move to the shooting range," a gentler voice called out from your left.

A man, in his mid-twenties at least, stood with his hands behind his back. His bright blue eyes were trained on you, your form, your stance, your emotions, even your eyes. He already seemed to be deciding on you by the disapproving look he threw your way. You shivered, yet covered it by quickly jogging over to the small shooting range.

"Pistols only."

You suppressed a grumble of doubt by loading up two pistols. Your aim was on the small range ahead of you, awaiting the glowing targets to pop up. Secretly, you were wishing to have them all pop up at once and shoot yourself instead. You were giving up hope.

One quick, precise shot at a time, you nailed each target directly in the head. The pair of blue orbs watched your every move. You could tell by how light his gaze was that your actions were surprising him.

"The close combat zone!"

You quickly set down the pistols as the man, Mitchell you presumed, ordered you around like a little dog. His gaze never left your form as you moved, making you doubt yourself again. What if you were doing everything wrong? Where was he even looking? Your back was to him...was he gazing at your hair, your shoulders? Your ass? You suddenly felt violated.

"Tighten your core, Y/N," Mitchell bumped you away from your fearful thoughts.

You followed his instructions, pounding the dummy with your fists, elbows, legs and even hips. The dummy awkwardly fought back, as if being controlled by a new person on the job. You blocked the blows with ease.

"Here, Y/N," Mitchell's hand was suddenly pressed against your shoulder, making you pause. "Use here. Not a little bump either, but your entire body."

You gulped to the chill rushing from his smooth fingers to your tank-top fitted shoulder. Mitchell suddenly released you and backed away. For a slim moment, you yearned for his touch once more.

Ramming into the dummy with your entire form, starting at the shoulders, you knocked it off its hinges. You almost heard a murmur of approval from Mitchell and your heart swelled to the idea.

"The obstacle course."

You sprinted over to the start of the confusing course. The very first part of the course required you to grapple across a wall, testing your ability to climb and maneuver while in the air. You had the hang of it, swinging and launching above the rest of the course. That was until the grapple made a weird buzzing sound.

"Y/N, release the lever," Mitchell spoke calmly up to you.

"I-I can't," you reached for the lever on grapple; it would allow you to zip down to the cement ground below you.

Before you and Mitchell could try to fix the situation any further, the grapple came apart. You went hurtling toward the ground with a yelp of surprise. This was where they would consider you a failure, you decided. Sentinel would send you home thinking you were never good enough. None of this came true, however.

Because someone caught you. Someone you didn't expect to care.

"Open your eyes, Y/N," Mitchell's voice was stern, yet when you did as he said his gaze was soft, trained on you.

You slowly opened your eyes, dizzy from your fall. "D-Did I pass?"

A small chuckle erupted from the man holding you. He  shifted his arms beneath you, setting your butt on the ground. His left muscular arm tightened around your shoulders, while his right brought your bent legs close to him. You didn't ever want to move away.

"I didn't, did I?"

"Equipment failure recalls for a retake," Mitchell spoke, seeming to pause for a few moments. "But I've seen enough."

Here comes the denial of entry.

"Your ceremony will be this weekend."

What?

"But I didn't finish," you tested.

"You can't now," Mitchell pointed out. "Your ankle."

You'd just realized how twisted your ankle was. Had you broken it? And how had you not realized it? Was it your nerves? Your worry? Something told you it was the pair of hands wrapped protectively around your form.

"It's fractured, we need to get you some help," Mitchell decided, starting to help you upwards.

You slowly hobbled to your feet, Mitchell supporting your side with a hurt ankle. Right then, right there, as you hobbled along, you knew your ankle wouldn't be the first thing to be broken in your long fight ahead.

~~~

Okay, I'm am so sorry for not updating. Ever since school started, it's been beyond hectic and very stressful. This last week has NOT been the best for me either. This weekend, I hope to update most of my stories to try and make myself feel a little about everything in my life, including not updating.

Thank you all soooo much for 8K, that is amazing. I know I haven't deserved it recently, but I'm still so happy about it! YOU are the only reason I continue to post. Your votes, comments and follows help keep me motivated beyond words.

I promise there will be another update this weekend on THIS book. I need to catch up on requests annnd I have a heart-melting idea of my own.

Love you!

~MS~