James Richardson read the top of the page; "Please sign in." He look at the dirtied clock on the wall and wrote down the time and his name. An iraqi woman behind the counter shouted into her earpiece as she motioned for him to take a seat in a green plastic chair against the wall opposite the clock. James coughed into his elbow several times, his chest heaving with pain. He sat, but the chair seemed to bend under his weight, so he put most of his weight on his feet.

Before long, a man came and opened a door beside the clock. "Reecharsoon, Jeemes?" He stood and grinned at the man's thick Cuban accent. James followed him through the hall behind the wooden door and was led to another room, smaller than the first. "Doo you have eeny ideentificatoon on you?" James tried to hide his smile as he pulled out his ID card. The man took it, glanced at it, and gave it back. "General Gleen be wid you een mooment." James said, "I'm here for General Green..." "That whad I say. General Gleen." James nodded, shoving his mouth into his palm and feigning a cough to keep from laughing. "You sit theere, and He be here een momeent."

A few minutes later, a man about his age entered the room examining a piece of paper filled with black writing. He was muttering to himself the words aloud, but James only caught "James," "Alpha," and he thought he heard "water buffalo." the man sat down in a chair across from James. Only then did the man seem to notice him. "I'm Jimmy Green, it's nice to meet you James Richardson, son of Dennis Richardson, employee of FedEx who had 23 detention in one month back in high school, and played football all four years of his high school career at Thornton High school in North Dakota."

James gaped his mouth opened. "How did you know all that?!" Jimmy laughed and replied, "We have to know everything about you before you can be accepted." James looked skeptical. "Accepted?" Jimmy nodded and looked at him closely. "Yes. Accepted. You sent in an application to a recruiter. Well, that recruiter decided your skills were far beyond that of the average soldier. He told us you were Recon material."

James narrowed his eyes. "You aren't making any sense. Recon?" Jimmy nodded, grinning. "Yeah. Ghost Recon is an elite team of soldiers sent in on the most dangerous missions." James nodded. "I see. But what does this have to do with accepting me?" Jimmy nodded. "I was getting there. Anyways, you were medically tested last month, and everything showed up good and perfectly healthy, so we brought you here. If you are willing to accept, the income is twice that of an average soldier's, and the GI bill is given within the first year. The only disclaimer is the risk and th commitment. Joining us requires a 4 year commitment, eight to ten months a year."

James nodded. "I see. Where will I be sent if I joined?" "Point 1. Bayama in Eastern Cuba. There is an airfield about 45 miles away where a helicopter could easily land." James sighed, and looked at the man. "I need you to answer something honestly. Is there a much higher risk of dying?" Jimmy thought a moment and shook his head. "No. But the chances of getting captured are higher." James grinned. "That is all I needed to know. When do I get sent off?" Jimmy looked confused. "Weren't you told to pack bags already?" The new recruit nodded. "Yes sir." Jimmy smiled and replied, "Then you should go pick up your Alpha Team ID from the A Hallway before your helicopter leaves in an hour." James nodded and stood with The General. "And James?" "Yes sir?" "Don't call me sir. You are just as important as me now." James laughed and nodded. "Alright... Jimmy."


Howard Johnson sat on a plastic green chair in the waiting room, sitting his hand on his plump stomach. He was very large, and not quick or good with the gun, but he was smart. His GPA in High School was 4.27; he was a Strategic Designer for the Alpha and Bravo squads of Ghost Recon. He looked at the man sitting beside him and chuckled. "You look nervous. It's a very simple talk, don't be worried. You look strong; I'm sure you'll be accepted." He smiled toothily at the young man, who did not smile back. "Why are you talking to me? I am not of you, so do not pickle me." He obviously did not speak very good English; perhaps he wouldn't be accepted.

He yawned, and looked at the door. He was waiting on a James Richardson, because he was supposed to take him to the Alpha Sector to receive his ID. Before long, the young man came out, looking confident and ready. Howard struggled to stand up, his knees weak from sitting so long. "James Richardson?" He said in a weak and pained voice. The young man looked at him. "Yes sir?" Howard finally stood upright; still, he was shorter and fatter the the muscular young man, who seemed to be more than 6" feet tall. "I'm supposed to take you to the Alpha Sector."

James nodded and followed the man, seemingly less confident then before somehow. Howard led him very slowly to the A Hallway. "So Mr. Richardson," Howard said in an attempt to start a conversation. "What are they taking you on as?" James furrowed his eyebrows together, his forehead creasing. "What?" Howard chuckled a deep throaty chuckle. "Look at the paper he gave you." James looked down at the half-sheet of paper and read it.

Dear James Richardson
We are happy to congratulate you on your acceptance onto our squad. We are elite, and we would gladly like to give you a position as
2nd wingman. If you have any questions about your position, your duties and requirements, your food rations, or anything else, please contact Jimmy Green at 555-7534 or contact Howard Johnson at 555-8730. Thank you for visiting our office, please come again if you have any medical forms to return. Please get your ID before boarding your helicopter number 92.
-Juanita, Assistant of Jimmy Green's Office manager, Terri Kiefer

James looked up from the simple paper and back to the slow-moving Howard. "Are you going to be on the helicopter too?" Howard nodded. "Yes sir, I will. Number 92. Just wait till you meet the rest of the squad. I met them last week. They are a... diverse group." James looked puzzled. "As in..." Howard chuckled and replied oddly, "Never mind." James looked at him, but he was still befuddled. "What do you mean diverse?" Howard chuckled at his persistence, so he shrugged and chuckled once more. "Just the fact that there is only one girl on the whole Ghost Recon Committee and she is on Alpha squad with you" James nodded slowly, his eyes sparkling with a million questions.

But, even though the questions he had threatened to spew from his mouth in a flurry of words, he held his tounge and asked only one. "Are you nervous?" Howard looked at James, and couldn't help but pity the boy's lack of confidence. "James," he replied calmly. "There is nothing to be nervous about." The recruit took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you." Howard grinned and faced the hallway before them. "Alright, not much further. Are you ready to meet your team?" James laughed. "I was born for this."


A/N: The new and revised first chapter