Before I begin, something really important has happened. One of my good friends Ben was awesome enough to do some art based on RLW's main ladies! He's really good actually, so check it out at benspictures . deviantart art/RANGERS-LEAD-THE-WAY-616655182 (delete spaces between the dots, obviously)
Or you can check my profile for the link. Seriously, it's awesome.
Check out his other art, because he's real talented but needs recognition. Yes I am shamelessly advertising a friend on my fic.
Yes. I know. I'm late. Surprise. But after many painful 3AM writing sessions, it's here. 3 months late. I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!
Finals were kicking my butt, you know how it is. But now that summer is in full swing, it's definitely time to push out this update.
I forgot to mention, we've broken 20,000 views! Thanks guys!
I threw up a random poll on my profile to mix it up, check it out. This time I'm just asking what gender I come across to be as the writer, factoring in my style, tendencies, and strange taste in protagonists. It's also there to see how many sarcastic assholes read this story.
Anyway, I'm finally coming back to something I've actually neglected for a total of 5 chapters: Jenna and her role in the story. I know, it's scary.
After all the dark stuff that we've dealt with in the past few chapters, it's time for a bit more lighthearted fun fun junk.
"Three-day pass? No way. Mind saying that again for me, Boss?"
"Three. Day. Pass. After the past few days, we've definitely earned it. Three days of fun in Paris, Frost, just think about that."
As Sandman was taking a sip of coffee from his mug, Truck shuffled in, rubbing his eyes.
"So, the usual? Get hammered first night. Then what do we do for the next two days? We never get the whole three days, man…" Truck said.
Grinch walked in immediately after Truck, adding, "Screwing around, y'know? Civvie stuff. You know, I heard these French chicks are pretty grateful we showed up. Heh?"
"Man, only thing ever on your mind is pussy," Frost muttered.
"Dude, shut the fuck up," Grinch shot. "Besides, ain't you planning on taking Hook out? It's the city of love. Don't wanna let her down."
"As if! Why would I even be remotely interested in that?" Frost snapped indignantly.
"Ha, first off, somebody's gotta babysit her," Grinch smirked. "You know what happened last time we let the idiot alone, she got her ass kidnapped. And, uh, well… I actually kinda feel bad for her. She's been seeming really out of it lately. But I see the way she looks at you sometimes. She needs you."
Grinch became surprisingly serious, something extremely rare for him. If Grinch was picking up on something like that, he had to be right.
"Just help her take her mind off of the stuff she's seen," Sandman said. "As good as she is at what she does, I can tell that if she's overloaded she'll shut down."
"…fine," Frost sighed. "I guess she hasn't had time to act like a girl in forever, huh?"
"So, it's set," Sandman declared. "Boys, get your shit together, we'll catch the next transport headed out to Paris. Bring civvies, because I don't wanna see your asses wearing uniforms the whole time. Low-profile, dig?"
"Speaking of that," Frost said as Grinch and Truck took their leave. "Uh, where is Hook?"
"She's probably hanging at the range," Sandman replied. "She's really been working hard for a while."
Frost nodded and headed out to tell Jenna the news. As he walked down the road, joining the commute of soldiers throughout he makeshift base, he thought about what Grinch had said. Hook really wasn't doing well ever since the incident with her Ranger friend. She did a decent job of hiding it, but it was certain that she was devastated. Something about her nature was different. She was generally lazy and apathetic, but she possessed a more energetic personality in the field. That seemed to be completely gone, but compared to her first mission with the team, at least she was performing better.
As he fished for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, Frost's thoughts immediately shifted from Jenna's emotions to her performance. No doubt she picked up on the way Delta operated. She actually did so surprisingly quickly. Sandman was right – she had been working hard and constantly trying to improve ever since Bradford got on her ass about it. She didn't seem to realize it, but she was actually an incredibly rapid learner. She never actually went through selection, but there was no doubt that she'd at least pass. She wasn't the strongest, but she was fit and could still bear the weight. As far as training went, she had more experience than newly-operational Delta recruits. She might not have been strictly trained in proper operational routine, but she made up for it with raw fighting prowess.
Frost arrived at the base's range, realizing that he spent the whole trip without lighting his cigarette at all. He looked at the cigarette in his hand, shaking his head as he slid it back into the pack. He knew he'd have to quit eventually, but the nature of his job already cut down his lifespan considerably.
"Yo, Hook," he said, approaching her.
She seemed to be practicing a tactical transition drill. One round in the rifle's mag. Primary dry, her non-dominant hand guided it down while her firing hand instinctively went to the sidearm in her holster. Then, the non-firing hand met the pistol, forming a proper grip. She pushed the pistol straight forward, elbows going inwards. She snapped off her second shot, a metallic ping registering her hit on the target.
"Nicely done," Frost commented, watching as Jenna spot-checked the chamber on her handgun, put it on safety, and holstered it. "416? How come?"
"Oh, um," Jenna said, caught off guard by Frost's sudden presence. "HK416 is supposed to be standard, isn't it? Better than the M4A1. Why don't you guys use it on ops? You guys rolled it when I was back in Afghanistan."
"Yeah, shrinking budget couldn't keep up with maintaining them. On the other hand, there's a million M4s floating around. That war against Al-Asad really didn't do us any favors."
"S-So, what's going on?" Jenna asked.
"After busting our asses, we got three-day leave."
"Wow… three-day leave…?"
Frost was a bit confused by her reaction. It wasn't nearly as happy as he anticipated. In fact, she seemed lost in thought for a moment, before turning visibly sad.
"Ah, it's nothing. Just my old company when I was just a grunt, we weren't particularly the best. We were sort of a misfit unit with all the delinquents and idiots and all of that. A 'bad company' if you will."
Jenna found herself remembering those days, a boring existence spent waiting for the day she'd finally catch the round with her name written on it, the day her suffering would have to end. The day she'd leave Brooke behind, all alone in the cruel fucking world.
It was funny how far Jenna had come since then. And that… well, that Brooke was the one to pass first.
"S-Sorry. I just remembered some stuff. That's it."
Damn, Grinch was right, Frost thought. She really is out of it.
"So," he began. "Paris. How does that sound? Three nights."
"With the guys?" Jenna asked.
"Err… not completely. I, uh…" Frost hesitated. "I'm gonna bring you."
"Huh?"
Jenna saw Frost turning away, scratching the back of his head before wiping his nose.
"Yeah. We'll, uh, hang out, I guess. Get to know each other a bit better. Get our minds off the war. Sound good?"
"S-Sure. That sounds… great," Jenna accepted, equally as awkward in her speech. "Fun. It should be fun."
"Awesome. Here, I'll walk you back to the barracks. Gotta get your shit together."
"I'm honestly glad as fuck we got rid of McCoy. Not only was he constantly out to get in my pants, he didn't police his brass and he ratfucked his goddamn MREs," Jenna sighed, leaning back in her seat, her feet propped up on a suitcase half her size.
"Come on, he wasn't… the worst," Truck said, trying his best not to be rude. "Besides, you did come up with some pretty sweet recipes using the stuff he tossed."
"Hook, you know, even though he's a dick, he's a dick for a reason," Frost explained, punching Grinch in the arm. "Kinda like Grinch. Grinch is a dick because you are what you eat, after all."
"Fuck off."
Sandman shook his head and returned to his futile attempts to read a French newspaper. Jenna just didn't have the heart to tell him that he was holding it upside down.
"No, but really," Frost continued. "They plucked him out of an SOF unit too. He was Special Forces, not Rangers, though. 3rd SFG. They had some shitty leadership going, no accountability. Read his psych profile, though. Seems like back at the beginning of the invasion, he was really high-performance. What he didn't have in physical accountability, made up for with sheer willpower. Kind of like a less-dipshit version of you, Hook."
"Frosty, come on! Why did you have to add that last part…?" Jenna pouted, puffing her cheek.
"Actually, I read a mission report of the last op before he went bad…"
August 30, 2016
Sgt. Marshall "McCoy" Collins
3rd Special Forces Group
Los Angeles, California, USA
McCoy could hear the engines roaring behind him as he rounded a corner and headed into an alleyway. He glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand before shoving it into his pocket. He tossed his backpack on the ground and fished through it frantically, hearing the trucks get closer. He pulled out a Claymore mine and quickly set it at the end of the corridor, swinging the backpack onto his back again and running.
He stopped at the foot of a ladder, waiting for the thumping of boots on the ground to get closer and activate the mine's tripwire. The explosive went off exactly as planned, throwing metal ball bearings into the enemy soldiers' legs and tearing straight through them. McCoy quickly ascended the ladder to escape the angry voices trying to seek him.
"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered to himself, running a distance across the rooftop and getting prone.
He peered through the EoTech holographic sight on his SOPMOD Block II M4A1, sighting in the enemy soldiers in their foreign gray-blue-white camouflage uniforms. Firing off a few bursts, he dispatched about a third of them before they began to fire back.
"Shǒuliúdàn!" a soldier cried moments before a stick grenade tumbled onto the roof.
"Fuck off, Kim!" McCoy yelled, grabbing it and dropping it back over the side of the building.
"Tā mā de!" the soldier panicked, realizing his little present ended up right back at his feet again.
McCoy saw his attempt to jump on it, but the explosive detonated before he could make it, killing two other soldiers and throwing the grenadier's shrapnel-riddled corpse into another enemy. McCoy took this opportunity to light up a few more hostiles before flicking out his mag and jumping onto another rooftop.
"Damn, come on, just keep going!" he told himself, knowing that if he stopped, a bunch of angry Chinese soldiers would be poking their stupid bullpup Type 95s up his ass.
He witnessed a machinegunner attempting to set up in the window of a building nearby. He instinctively pulled out an M67 frag, yanking the pin, releasing the spoon, and chucking it without slowing at all. The metallic sphere bonked the soldier in the face, knocking him backwards before landing in his lap.
McCoy couldn't help but laugh, hearing the explosion go off after about a second of panicked gibberish.
He ran down a nearby fire escape, getting back to ground level and entering a vacant building. Quickly, he reached into his backpack again and got out a few premade C4 charges, which he then set onto the pillars on the end of the building the enemies were coming from. He left through a door on the other side, activating his clapper and detonating the explosives. The final few pursuers either were killed by the blast or crushed by the debris crumbling onto their bodies.
"That's the shit," he coughed, sitting down to catch his breath. "No better way to shake a tail."
He looked up, and across the street was a library. Conveniently, he managed to find his destination. It seemed completely derelict, a whole section of a large window wall smashed. A sandbag barrier took its place, giving off the appearance of an abandoned fighting position. Clearly, it was booby-trapped for the first idiot to set foot in it.
He approached the front doors, feeling a presence. There wasn't mistaking the feeling of guns trained on him, knowing that there were fingers on triggers ready to pepper his body with bullets at a moment's notice. He checked the piece of paper again and read the phrase scribbled on it.
"Roof Koreans," he announced loudly.
Nothing happened. He felt like a total idiot.
"Hurry the fuck up," a sudden voice said over the library's PA, which was located inside the building. "And stand down, guys!"
The doors automatically slid open for him, and he entered. He found a couple of people wearing street attire, wielding a variety of guns and looking him up and down.
"Heard the gunfire while you were on the way here," a man wearing a bandana and an NRA cap said. "Nearly led the bastards to us."
"Don't worry about it," another guy in a hoodie and a shemagh said. "PLA's rolled down the street right in front of us without giving a second thought."
"Anyone else ever wonder what the hell the Chinese are doing here?"
"Russia came to have fun, China wanted a slice of the pie too. I heard New York's finally been cleaned up, DC's rebuilding already, and look at us."
The apparent leader shushed the other people, and turned towards McCoy.
"So, what brings you here?"
"We got your request for assistance regarding an operation you're planning," McCoy replied. "I'm your link to the military for support. We've set up a weapons and ammo cache, tossed in some really nice toys for you guys to use. Obviously we couldn't deliver it here, but you probably won't have to fight your way to it."
"Fantastic. Go talk to our planner over there, point out the location on our map for her. Many thanks."
McCoy walked in the direction he was pointed to, not completely sure who the guy was referring to. He passed a particularly shifty-looking person leaning up against a bookshelf, a man who just stared at him the whole time he passed. Something about him struck McCoy as being fellow military. Something about the way he stood, or maybe the look of suspicion on his face. Evaluating his surroundings constantly, looking for threats. If anything, this guy was certainly useful to the resistance.
After a few steps, something still seemed off to McCoy. He glanced behind himself, only to find that the mysterious man had disappeared. McCoy didn't even hear footsteps or anything of the like.
Shrugging it off, he sighted the planner he'd been referred to sitting behind the check-out counter. Ironically, she seemed like a librarian type, glasses and all. She was studiously investigating a few reports that scouts brought back for any useful intel. Definitely not a combat person at all.
"Hey, I'm from the US Army. Your boss told me to point out a location of a weapons cache my boys set up for you," McCoy said.
"H-Huh? Oh, sorry, yeah. We didn't really expect you to come," the planner replied, jumping back in her chair.
She looked up at McCoy, revealing hazel eyes previously concealed by her dark bangs. Nodding, she stood up from her chair and led him over to a board with a large map of the immediate area pinned up on it. She waved over to it and stood behind him when he stepped closer.
"Don't talk much, do you…?" McCoy smirked, his eyes scanning the map. "Got a marker?"
Out of the corner of his vision, the blurred outline of a Sharpie. Lady was definitely quick with things.
Tucking his carbine under his arm and holding it with his left hand, McCoy held the cap of the marker in his mouth. He circled the location of the cache and turned back.
The planner looked somewhat irritated, staring right at McCoy. He was confused as to what he did wrong before she reached towards him and plucked the cap out of his mouth. She wiped it on her shirt, took the marker, replaced the cap, and stuck it into her shirt pocket. McCoy spotted a name tag pinned above it. Her name was apparently Catherine.
She suddenly crossed her arms, covering the tag. McCoy looked back up and found her frowning at him. He hadn't quite realized it sort of looked like he was staring at her chest. She coldly walked past him and approached the board, pushing her glasses up as she began to plan out a possible route to the cache.
McCoy scoffed and walked away, looking back over his shoulder. He snickered, seeing her unconsciously stick the marker's cap in her mouth.
"Hey, we're here. Get the fuck off my truck," announced the driver, a regular Army Corporal in his digital ACUs.
Frost elbowed Jenna awake. She'd fallen asleep at some point during Frost's somewhat monotone explanation of what he had read on McCoy.
"Good luck, loverboy," Grinch whispered in Frost's ear, grinning.
"Fuckity-fuck off."
Frost took Jenna's hand and helped her off the M35 truck, making sure she didn't faceplant jumping off the back. And Grinch just stood there with his shit-eating mug, Sandman also trying to resist the urge to crack a smile himself.
"Well, Frost, we're actually gonna split off already. Need to beat the rush of the regular guys hitting the bars," Sandman said.
"What? We're not heading out together?" Jenna questioned.
"Uh, how should I explain…?" Truck began. "Frost's got some… special plans for you. You go run along and have some fun."
Jenna watched them walk off, the transport also departing. Frost nudged her along, and she hesitantly followed, turning around and watching the other three soldiers disappear. She felt herself blush a little bit, walking alone with Frost like this.
"So, where are we going?" she asked, watching him nonchalantly stick a cigarette in his mouth.
"Well, a buddy of mine in the GIGN recommended this really nice hotel. He's planning on meeting up, too. He's actually pretty excited to meet the first female addition to our team."
Wait. Does this mean he… he's talked about me before? What kinds of things does he say about me?
Her heart sank a little bit upon a small realization.
Probably tells them how much I suck…
"Hey, dipshit," Frost said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "What's with the face? Come on, we got three days to fuck around in Paris! Whatever's botherin' you, just drop it. I know you like to have fun."
They walked together in silence, sticking out among the civilians in their Multicam combat uniforms. It had admittedly been a while since Jenna wore the standard-issue uniform, especially after exclusively wearing the high-speed Crye gear the team donned on ops.
The two soon arrived at the hotel, a really high-end looking place. Absolutely unscathed by the attacks and battle that had been raging for a little while, although that entire area of the city remained untouched. Upon entering the doors, they encountered two people who promptly approached them.
"Rook! Didn't expect you to be here so soon!" Frost greeted, shaking the hand of a green-eyed man. "Thought GIGN was still on cleanup."
"Ah, Westbrook. You're looking better than ever. Uh… did you happen to get taller by any chance, though?" Rook replied. "And not my team. We've had our fill, honestly."
Jenna observed that the Frenchman spoke excellent English, without a noticeable accent. He was accompanied by a shorter, blue-eyed woman, roughly Jenna's height.
"And who's that? Can't say we've met," Frost continued.
"Oh, that's Emman-, er, Twitch," Rook answered.
"Ha, Twitch. Didn't recognize you without the mask. I still remember when you slapped me for calling it a BDSM gimp-" Frost snickered, suddenly noticing that the two were holding hands. "Whoa now, don't tell me-?"
Rook's face turned red, and he stepped away, turning his head to the side while Twitch smiled.
"Yes. Julien's kind of a softie beneath all the armor he wears," she giggled, also seeming to speak completely without an accent. "Is it safe to assume you and your own partner are also together?"
"Ah-!" Jenna and Frost exclaimed together in unison, glancing at each other.
"W-Well, I wouldn't mind…" Jenna began, Frost suddenly elbowing her.
"Haha, nope. Completely professional relationship here."
Twitch smirked.
"Sure thing, Westbrook. About as professional as that one German GSG-9 operator who wore jeans to our counterterrorism exercise. What was her name? Smart?"
"So, this is Moore? Huh. Expected her to be a lot… taller," Rook said.
And what exactly do you mean by that…? Jenna thought, glaring at him.
"All the better. Enemy wouldn't expect her to be as strong as I've been told," Rook grinned. "You're quite famous, Moore. They say you captured Volk. He's been under our noses for a while now…"
Jenna shuffled back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground. Did Frost really tell people stuff like that? She expected some kind of comment on how incompetent she'd been, but instead she got compliments.
"Enough with this, we really shouldn't be here right now," Rook admitted. "To be completely honest, we should be helping out our comrades with the cleanup. Even if we're off duty. Anyway, hope you enjoy the stay! This place is excellent!"
At that, the two walked off. Jenna awkwardly rubbed her nose while Frost scratched the back of his head. They both stood in silence, completely having forgotten what they came for.
"Th-That was weird," Jenna said. "You make weird friends. I didn't understand a single thing you guys were discussing at all."
"Don't worry about it," Frost replied, looking over Jenna's shoulder and eyeing a surveillance camera on the ceiling. "Just act like nothing happened."
They arrived at the reception desk, greeted by a heavily-accented clerk. Frost handed over his military ID, a passport, and what appeared to be the team's recreational credit card.
"Why does it have a picture of a burning egg on it?" Jenna asked.
"Grinch was the one who opened the account…" Frost muttered.
"Ah, yes. Room for two?" the receptionist confirmed, sliding over the keycards.
Frost nodded, taking the envelope and pulling Jenna along.
Room for two? No separate rooms. Oh God, we're going to be behind closed doors… alone… together…
"Dipshit, I can already tell what you're thinking," Frost sighed. "Should be fine. I think I requested separate beds."
After a short elevator ride, they located the room, and after multiple failed keyswipes, the door finally unlocked. The two stepped inside, flicking on the lights, only to find…
"Crap. Maybe I forgot to mention that in the reservation."
They threw their suitcases in the corner of the room, pulling open the curtains to find that the sun was already setting. The ride from the base must have been much longer than they thought. After inspecting the room and trying to figure out how the weird second toilet in the floor was supposed to work, they once again looked at the single bed nervously.
"This is as oddly cliché as it gets…" Frost sighed. "Well, looks like we have no choice."
Is he going to…?
"I'll just sleep on the floor.
Damn it!
However, after some thought, Frost looked back at Jenna, placing his hand on the back of his head. He stepped over to her, almost as if to inspect her more.
"Then again, I don't think I have a problem with sharing the bed at all," he smiled slyly.
Jenna gaped at him wide-eyed, gritting her teeth and quickly averting her gaze to the ground. He knew that his words would make her all flustered, and it made her a little bit angry. God, what a jerk.
"Hm? What's the problem?" Frost continued, noticing her obvious reaction and placing his hand on her head. "There's no need to worry. I'll be right next to you."
Jenna whimpered extremely quietly, her hand suddenly coming up and grabbing her elbow. She began to shake, trying to resist the urge to smile. Frost thought that maybe that was enough.
"I'm just kidding, you dipshit!" he chuckled, punching her in the arm. "Here, we'll order more pillows and line them down the middle of the bed if it bothers you that much."
"Man, don't joke around like that!" Jenna snapped. "Sometimes you need to think about what you're saying…"
Well, give me a cliché situation like this, of course I'm gonna take advantage of it, Frost mused. Come to think of it… weird shit like this happens to us a lot, doesn't it?
"Here, go change out of the uniform and get ready for bed. I'm really fuckin' tired."
"Sure thing, Frost!"
"Please," Frost suddenly interjected, craning his neck, his eyes flickering towards Jenna's. "I have a name. While we're out here, I don't mind you calling me Derek… Jenna."
When he spoke those words, Jenna was already a foot into the bathroom. She quickly slammed the door behind herself and slid down it, rubbing her cheek and fanning herself with her shirt.
Fuck… it's hot. Guess I really do still like him…
She leaned over the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Something struck her as particularly off, and she wasn't sure what.
She suddenly stepped back in horror, raising an arm defensively. She looked a lot different than she remembered. Jenna never particularly paid any attention to her appearance at all, but choosing to do so revealed how much she'd changed.
"Since when did my hair get this long?" she said to herself, twisting its ends and cocking her head. "And why do I look so tired?"
Jenna then came to focus on her hand, which was almost reflexively forming a grip around an invisible gun. The weirdest part, however, was looking into her own eyes. She was definitely still Jenna, but she felt like the figure in the mirror was a totally different person.
Right.
Jenna turned on the water and splashed some on her face, trying to remember how exactly things became this way. She always had that nonchalant, irritated air back in her Afghanistan days, but the new look in her eyes was new. It was as if the light in her eyes was snuffed out, almost completely extinguished by everything after the invasion of the US.
I've really changed, haven't I? she realized, trying her hardest to recall the last time she legitimately laughed over something.
She shrugged it off, changing into her usual PT shorts and issue T-shirt, and shuffling into the room barefoot. Derek quickly exchanged places with her, entering the bathroom with a yawn. He was out in what seemed like an instant, wearing a pair of plain black sweatpants and a tank top. Jenna half-expected him to be the type to sleep shirtless (like most soldiers she knew did), so she was slightly surprised.
As he passed by her, she caught glimpse of his well-formed arm muscles, along with his slim physique. She already knew that he wasn't exactly a stocky guy compared to his teammates, but his form-fitting top really showed off his body type more than she'd ever seen. It was strange to see a type like him, more toned than built.
Wow, Jenna. You're being kind of a pervert. Staring at him like that.
She quickly turned onto her side when she felt him climb onto the bed, curling up a little bit. She remembered that they were supposed to ask for more pillows, but totally forgot to. Not only that, but they also skipped dinner.
Jenna reluctantly rolled over to face Frost, but found him already completely asleep. Not only that, he was ridiculously quiet. The only way she could even tell that he was sleeping was the way his chest gently rose and fell at a natural pace.
Admittedly, she was quite relieved. Falling asleep knowing that he could be watching would have been impossible for her. This was all despite the fact that when she arrived to Team Metal a while ago, she would have given anything for such an opportunity.
Was she really still in love with him? She'd gotten to know him much more, or more accurately, what he was like. He still had that aura of mystery, and thinking about it, they didn't really know too much about each other. Despite that, they completely trusted each other, almost dangerously so considering the occupation.
Jenna learned during her early days as a grunt in Afghanistan that getting attached to her fellow soldiers was inevitable. Brotherhood among warriors was a given. Yet, dedicating oneself to another too much was extremely unsafe, especially when the relationship grew past the point of brotherhood.
She first regarded Derek as her crush, and over time grew to respect him as her teammate and superior. Yet, she wasn't sure if she even looked at him that way anymore. That original, naïve puppy crush was replaced with something completely different. He meant a whole lot more to her than just a crush. No matter what, she felt dedicated to him.
I'm… looking forward to getting to know you better now. Even if I'm afraid it'll get in the way of our working relationship. I still feel like I should.
She wrapped her arms around a pillow – a strange habit of hers that earned some teasing when she first enlisted – and tried her best to ignore the fact that she was sharing the bed with someone.
Derek stumbled out of an alleyway, trying to run after the van his sister was taken in. Futilely, he pushed his battered body more and more, collapsing into tears as he watched it speed off. Spitting blood onto the sidewalk, he pulled himself up and turned to a brick wall.
"FUCK IT ALL!" he cried, violently punching it, feeling the pain ripple through his knuckles, seeing the bloody imprint he left on the wall.
He always relived moments like this in his dreams. Of course, he didn't tell anyone about it. It always hurt to remember. The last thing he needed in his line of work.
Derek turned around, all of a sudden faced with a reinforced metal door with a keypad. He punched in the number and entered to find a blonde woman restrained to a chair, sobbing. Despite being unable to see her face, he immediately recognized her as his sister. He dashed forwards, shaking her shoulder.
"M-Mia…?" he said gently.
The woman looked up, revealing that she wasn't at all his sister. In fact, the person before him changed into a totally different individual. Mia was replaced by another blonde, a green-eyed Russian with the same kind of look in her eyes that many soldiers had.
Natalia Petrova. A name he could never forget.
He suddenly heard a bunch of slumping noises against the floor. Stepping back, Derek saw the unconscious bodies of three American MPs on the ground. He was now recalling the incident where he and Grinch caught a few soldiers attempting to violate their prisoner, Petrova.
He never particularly realized why it all felt familiar to him when he stopped it, but it was finally coming together.
The door behind him exploded with a loud bang, and when he looked at it, he saw the other three members of his team stacked up in full combat gear. Derek glanced down at the carbine now in his hands, and realized that he too was in full kit. He ran through the door and witnessed the scene in the alleyway once again.
He felt something snap inside of him, seeing his sister pinned beneath a man two times her size, shifting his body upwards. Derek realized that this time around he was armed, and flicked his gun on auto.
DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE! were the only thoughts going through his consciousness as he brought his weapon to bear and squeezed the trigger.
Thirty rounds of pure revenge ripping through the motherfucker's body. Derek slipped out his handgun and ended each of the other men with one trigger pull each, watching as blood and gray matter stained the walls.
Derek rushed over and quickly knelt down in front of the girl, guiding his gun off to the side as he inspected her.
"A-Are you all right?" he asked.
The girl's eyes widened as she broke out into a smile, squeezing her eyes closed as a single tear slid down her cheek. When she opened her eyes again, however, they had become an unmistakable shade of hazel.
"Th-Thank you, Frosty!" she exclaimed.
Hook. Hook was staring back at him.
What… the… fuck, Derek realized, taking her hand and helping her up.
She clung to his arm as he brought her out. He was still completely confused as to what was going on. Both Moore and Petrova in the place of his sister. There was only one thing that it could mean.
That was what made them stand out. That was what he saw in them. He had an insatiable urge to protect them, almost as if he wanted to make up for letting Mia go. Taken aback by this revelation, he quickly awoke, thrashing beneath the sheets violently for a second.
He glanced around the room, squinting as the morning light filtered through the window into his eyes. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face as he shifted to look at the other end of the bed. Jenna was apparently awake, and surprisingly early at that.
Absentmindedly, Derek arose from the bed, yawning loudly as he approached the bathroom. He knocked on the door, the hollow noise echoing through the quiet room. She didn't seem to be making much noise…
Jenna hesitantly opened the door, the hinges creaking dryly as she poked her head out. She quickly closed it again, making Derek slightly irritated.
On the other end of the door, Jenna stroked her clothes one last time and glanced at herself in the mirror. She woke up extremely early, just to get herself all pretty to spend the day with Derek. She knew deep down that it wouldn't be anything more than just two soldiers drinking on leave, yet she felt obligated to look nice for once.
She reluctantly stepped out, scratching her cheek as she tried to push her way past Derek. He started to enter the bathroom. Both froze partway through, staring at each other. Jenna felt completely paralyzed by Derek's gaze.
Jenna… you…
Derek felt as if he was looking at a completely different person. This girl standing before him wasn't the Hook he knew.
Her chestnut hair was tied back into a tiny ponytail, her bangs mostly kept out of the way with a hairclip, a few strands loose. She had also applied eyeliner, and looking closely, she was subtly wearing what seemed to be lavender eyeshadow. Her lips seemed slightly glossy and more pink than usual.
Jenna's outfit was also completely unexpected. A dark, cropped denim jacket contrasted with the plain white V-neck shirt she wore underneath it, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her forearms. Derek felt a slight pull at his heart when he saw the white bandages wrapped around her left arm at the wrist. A pleated skirt rested on her hips, and she wore knee-high leather boots that were completely different from the ones she wore outside the wire.
She looked absolutely stunning, however, and Derek realized that she was actually very cute dressed like that. Something about the fact that she wore her uniform sloppily but put effort into her civilian wear instead of the other way around struck him as endearing.
When Derek managed to shake it off and head into the bathroom to change, Jenna hid her face and went over to the bed to sit down for a second.
Oh my God… did he think I tried too hard? Does he not like it? Of course, stupid, he always sees you in your uniform, what do you expect!? she agonized.
She felt equally surprised when Derek stepped out in anything but his usual Crye combat uniform.
The first thing she noticed was his hair – still the same, shaggy nearly-white blond, but styled into a much more disheveled look, his bangs swept aside instead of hanging down like usual. He wore a long-sleeved gray button-up shirt, his sleeves pushed up right above his elbow. In his open collar was a pair of aviator sunglasses, the expensive kind. His hands rested nonchalantly in the pockets of his dark jeans, a silver watch with a leather band wrapped around his left wrist.
And so it seemed that both of them dressed up somewhat for the occasion instead of wearing normal street clothes – a sign that the day certainly wasn't going to be a boring one at all.
The two began to head out, but Derek promptly excused himself and went over to his suitcase to grab something. He pulled out a plastic case and opened it, taking the object inside and inspecting it carefully.
It was his personal handgun, a Glock 17 chambered in 9mm Parabellum. He chambered a round and put it away in his concealed holster just in case. To hell with whatever gun laws France had, there was just a Russian invasion and he wouldn't be caught pants down without a weapon on Condition 1.
It was a scary world out there, especially being stripped of his kit and rifle. More importantly, he had to protect Jenna especially after the incident back in New York.
"So, where are we going anyway?" Jenna asked, watching him step out the door and ensure it was locked.
"First things first, a buddy of mine told me we should rent a moped. Easiest way to get around," Derek replied.
They both proceeded to the lobby. Jenna waited somewhat patiently while Derek consulted a receptionist. A few minutes later, he returned with a map, walking straight past Jenna towards the door. She quickly caught up with him, a little bit mad he just did that.
"What was that for?" she pouted, walking behind him as he casually put his hands in his pockets. "Not even a 'hey, let's go?'"
Derek stopped and sighed, slowly turning his head around to see her puffing up her cheeks and balling her fists. Someone was cranky.
"All right, you need me to hold your hand, then?" he grinned, taking her hand and pulling her along.
"H-Huh? What are you doing?"
Derek checked the map and studied it while waiting for a crosswalk light to go on. When he memorized the directions and put it away, people were already crossing. He quickly began to cross the gap between himself and a few people in front of him while a car attempted to squeeze through. It stopped abruptly, the driver quite irritated.
Jenna let go of Derek's hand and angrily slammed the car's hood, leaving a dent the size of her small fist. The driver honked loudly, certainly upset that this rude lady just damaged his car. Derek casually rubbed his ear while Jenna growled, kicking the bumper repeatedly until it fell off. The horrified driver leaned out the window to see it on the ground while Jenna casually took hold of Derek's hand again and continued walking.
"Th-That was a bit much…" Derek said, looking over his shoulder and seeing the man leave his car and pick up the bumper, clearly about to break into tears.
Derek checked the pricing sign for moped rentals, and nodded, requesting two. Jenna promptly tugged him on the sleeve, and he turned around with raised eyebrows.
"I, uh, I can't drive one of these," Jenna admitted. "I can't actually drive at all, to be completely honest."
"Fine," Derek sighed, turning back to the man at the kiosk. "Make that one."
He hopped onto the seat, putting on his sunglasses and nodding at Jenna to get on. She climbed on after some hesitation, trying to stay on best she could with her hands holding the sides.
"Now, there's no need to be that way," Derek said, reaching back, grabbing her arms, and wrapping them around his torso. "You gotta hold on, all right? They ain't giving us helmets, so if you bust your head and get any stupider than you are I don't want it being my fault."
As they began to drive, Jenna tried her best not to hold on very tightly, but Derek had a really bad habit of making sharp, fast turns. She found herself squeezing him maybe a bit too much. She couldn't help but feel a little bit embarrassed, especially whenever she felt his solid abs beneath her arms.
They stopped at a large open area with plenty of grass and people going about their recreational business as if the city hadn't been swarming with angry Russians for a couple of weeks now. Derek chained up the moped and surveyed the park, trying to find a spot to relax.
"What are we doing here? Is there anything to do-?" Jenna whined.
"There's dogs."
"Holy fuck, then let's go!"
They surprisingly managed to find an unoccupied bench. Settling it, Derek suddenly produced two deluxe-looking crepes, almost out of nowhere. Jenna gawked at them, especially because she didn't see him stop at any stands at all.
"Swiped them from some guy selling them. And don't give me that look. I didn't have any Euro cash on me, so I just left a $100 bill on his stand. I'm sure he won't mind."
He turned to Jenna to see her completely focused on something off in the distance. She was staring at a cavalier spaniel being walked by its owner, a middle-aged woman. Both were headed in their direction.
"It's a doggo…" Jenna whispered to herself. "Cute little doggo…"
When the two got closer, the dog trotted over to Jenna and stood on its hind legs, resting its soft paws on Jenna's legs. It stared up at her, tongue out as it wagged its tail. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Jenna saw for a really long time, and she couldn't help but break into a giggle.
The lady who owned the dog cocked her head and smiled at Jenna. She nodded cheerfully, stroking its head as if to invite Jenna to do so. She bent down and pet it, feeling its fluffy hair beneath her fingers.
Jenna waved as the woman and her pet departed, although she felt like something was missing.
"Uh…" Derek said, looking at Jenna's crepe, which fell onto the ground when she went into her little petting frenzy. "It's all right. You can just have mine."
Jenna accepted the dessert from him, biting into it with a soft grunt and tasting the explosion of creamy flavor in her mouth. She grinned at Derek, flashing an "ok" sign.
"It's that good?" he said, grabbing it back from her and taking a bite straight into it before she could protest. "Huh. Damn. That's actually… the best crepe I've ever tasted. Now I'm kinda mad you wasted yours."
He thrusted it back into her hands, wiping some cream off his lip and adjusting his aviators. Jenna stared at the crepe in her hands, blinking as she reached up to cover her mouth. He bit right into the part that she was eating.
She looked up and saw a particularly strange man sitting on a bench across the park. He was alone, and didn't seem to be enjoying himself at all. He lit a cigarette and impatiently tapped his foot, constantly glancing around as if he were nervous. His clothing was even stranger – it was all mismatched cheap stuff that didn't seem to fit him very well.
Another man approached, a bald guy wearing casual clothing. He seemed reasonably buff, more so than the average person. He was carrying a large duffel bag that seemed completely stuffed. He had a multitude of tattoos completely covering his arms, and he carried himself much like a soldier would.
"Check that out," Jenna said, nudging Derek and subtly pointing him in their direction. "Look funny to you?"
Derek took off his sunglasses and observed them, watching as they exchanged a particularly professional handshake and departed together, slightly rushing as if they were trying to escape.
"Yeah, you're actually right for once. Seems pretty sketchy to me. Finish that up, let's follow 'em."
They got into a beat-up, prehistoric van that actually backfired a few times before pulling away. Jenna and Derek were already on the moped, rolling behind them.
"Hoo-, Jenna, I'm gonna need you to keep an eye out. Make sure nobody knows we're tracking these dudes."
They followed the van as it seemingly drove in the same direction for a couple of minutes, occasionally stopping and looking around as if to inspect their surroundings as tourists. For the majority of the time, they didn't stick out very much, until the van got closer and closer to the restricted zone the police and military sectioned off to keep civilians away from the contaminated areas.
Two blocks down, there was a checkpoint manned by two French soldiers. The van made an abrupt right turn. Derek drove the moped a short distance forward and dismounted, quickly running up to the nearest building and peeking around the corner.
A group of men, about six in total, abandoned the van with a multitude of bags and backpacks and headed in the direction of the restricted zone, entering an alleyway.
"On me," Derek ordered, rounding the corner and opening the door of the apartment building.
Upon entering, they realized that it was abandoned, like most of the buildings in the area so close to the affected areas. Jenna followed her partner up the stairs to the roof. They came out on top of the roof to spot the group of men entering another building closer to the blocked-off area.
"Fuck. Let's get going. Call the guys, tell them we're tracking some possible stragglers."
"Didn't bring my phone."
"And mine's dead… crap. You think you can-?"
He looked her up and down and cut himself off.
"No, I know you can handle yourself. Come on."
They carefully followed the men into the contaminated zone for roughly an hour until they reached what seemed to be their meeting point.
Jenna and Derek quickly hid in a building right next to a courtyard filled with tired Russian soldiers, all stripped of their full combat kit to varying degrees. Heavy-duty military crates were scattered around, a few with weapons leaning against them. There was a table with what seemed to be crude explosive devices strewn about on top of it.
Four of the six men from earlier threw their duffel bags down and began to pull out chest rigs and suppressed weapons – seemingly AS VALs – and readied up. The apparent leader, the man from the park, conversed with someone who Derek determined to be the officer in charge of the stragglers. There were about thirty people there.
"So, you guys are the remnants we were told to meet?"
"Yes. We will assist you and provide necessary support for whatever operations you are to be initiating in this area."
"Excellent. Thank you again for helping us get here unnoticed."
Derek leaned over to Jenna and whispered in her ear cautiously, trying to make the best of what he was able to translate.
"They're smuggling in special ops guys, seems like. Probably to do some sabotage shit."
After exchanging formalities, the crowd dispersed, beginning to go about their work preparing for what was presumably their first operation. A couple of soldiers departed to patrol the area, armed with Skorpion vz.61 machine pistols.
"Oh, fuck!" Derek said, hearing one stepping up to the door to the building they were hiding in.
He drew his concealed handgun, keeping it trained on the door right where the soldier's body would presumably be if he walked in. Jenna, on the other hand, darted over next to the door, making sufficient noise to attract attention.
What the hell is she doing!?
However, this caused the soldier to open the door quickly. Jenna was hiding on the side the door opened towards, sufficiently hidden. The Russian spotted Derek first, and began to raise his Skorpion. Before Derek could snap off a shot or the Russian could level his weapon, Jenna kicked the door, knocking the soldier off to the side. Catching the doorknob at the last second and closing it quietly, she proceeded to tackle the Russian to the floor, pinning him down as she grabbed a pillow off a nearby couch and pressed it into his face to muffle his screams. She waited for him to stop before tossing the pillow aside, taking ahold of his head, and snapping his neck.
She took the Skorpion and searched his body for mags, making sure a round was chambered. She gave the OK sign to Derek after ensuring the guy was dead.
"I'll never be able to comprehend how you can be so stupid but so good at killing," he remarked. "Let's get the fuck out of here now."
He peeked through the window and saw an alarmed soldier approaching. Wincing, Derek stepped back and planted two rounds in the man's center mass. His body slumped through the broken window, followed by a swarm of rounds into the building. Derek fumbled through the dead Russian's gear for a grenade. He primed it and hurled it into the courtyard, rushing up the stairs.
Jenna followed, making her way up the steps while Derek leaned around the corner and snapped off more rounds at a few soldiers coming over. He turned around and headed upstairs, cautiously aiming downwards.
Locating a window, Jenna kicked open the glass panes and leapt onto a nearby roof. She fired a few bursts of suppressive fire at the stragglers and rolled away, pulling herself up and running the length of the rooftop.
"Damn it, we're out of roof!" she snapped as Derek came up alongside her.
He glanced around, trying to locate an escape. He located a nearby balcony, shook his head, and jumped for it. He landed on it, tumbling into the door with a grunt. Getting up and leaning against the wall, he waved Jenna over.
She attempted the jump too, nearly falling if not for the railing around the balcony. Derek quickly pulled her over and kicked open the door, pulling his handgun up and scanning the room. Jenna found a pair of pliers on the floor and flipped them around in her hand.
A sudden ding sounded behind them, and an elevator door opened with two enemies inside. Derek dispatched one of them instantly while Jenna glanced at the pliers in her hand. She threw them straight at the second man, the tool smacking against his face and stunning him. He was finished off by a prompt burst from the Skorpion. Another metallic noise against the ground.
"Fuck! GRENADE!"
Derek kicked it away and pushed Jenna back onto the balcony, but before he could take any evasive maneuvers of his own, the grenade exploded. It was far enough into the closing elevator doors that most of the shrapnel was blocked and he was barely grazed, but the shockwave threw him backwards. Jenna quickly went to hold him up as they made their escape. They took the stairs down and after concluding they evaded their pursuers, took refuge in an alleyway. Both took the moment to catch their breaths, huffing heavily. Derek slid down the wall and started coughing violently.
"A-Are you okay!?" Jenna asked, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Nothing I'm not… already… used to," Derek panted, gritting his teeth, clearly in pain.
His eyes widened at something behind Jenna, and he grunted, forcing himself onto his feet as a small trail of blood streamed onto his chin.
He shoved Jenna forwards, pressing his entire body onto hers and slamming her onto the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut with a short groan and opened one just barely enough to aim his Glock at something in the alleyway. Three reports and three shell cases hitting the ground later, Jenna opened her eyes to see three bodies slumped at the opening to the alley. She realized that she was on the ground, feeling Derek's raggedy breathing against her body. His hands found her waist and he held her for a couple of seconds before rolling off with a sigh.
"Hey, dip… shit. Are you all…r-right?"
"I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THAT QUESTION, DAMN IT!" Jenna cried, bending down and burying her face into his chest.
He felt her sobbing, dampening his shirt as he brought his hand up and placed it on her head.
"I'm glad to see… you care this much," he said with a grin.
"How can you even joke about this right now?" Jenna snapped, her face becoming redder as she rubbed her tears away. "I'm taking you to a hospital!"
"Don't," Derek dismissed. "I can't afford to be off the team. We both know this happens a lot. I'm okay. Just take me back to the hotel… so I can rest."
Jenna felt like he was right to an extent - usually, the immediate damage didn't show. What concerned her was the chance of a concussion, especially if it came up at a crucial time. She obliged, but she would definitely be reporting this to medical before the next op.
McCoy stretched his body, blinking a couple of times as he sipped tiredly from the mug in his hand. He was exhausted, but at least grateful they accommodated him (and let him use the last Keurig cup the coffee machine could make.)
He caught Catherine off to the side staring at him, holding a couple of files to her chest. She hid behind the wall somewhat clumsily. McCoy rolled his eyes and waved her over.
"Coffee?" he offered.
The shit was too sweet for him anyway. Too much creamer and sugar in it. He didn't really request it at all. They just brought it over and presented it, and considering it was the last cup, he couldn't really say no.
Catherine hesitantly came over and took the mug from him, beginning to step away. McCoy raised his eyebrows, sighed, and turned away to stare at the neatly-arranged books in their respective shelves.
He felt the woman take a seat next to him and smirked. Predictable.
"You know, I really love… well, loved my job," she remarked.
McCoy turned around to see her staring somewhat wistfully at the shelves.
"I always loved coming to this place when I was little," she said. "Distracted me from what was happening at home, I guess."
She sipped from the mug, twirling the liquid inside around, the steam slightly fogging her glasses.
"So I came to work here, y'know? But I always felt awfully… lonely. I was never particularly great with the guys who came in for some reason."
McCoy shifted in his seat and glanced around. He wasn't sure if he liked where this conversation was going. In fact, it was going a bit too fast for his liking.
"Always wanted to run away somewhere. This place was really the only thing anchoring me in this city. I thought it was over when I escaped my… uncle…" she trailed off, becoming a bit reluctant. "I-I'm sorry, we aren't even acquainted and I'm telling you things I shouldn't."
"No, it's fine. Please, go on."
Catherine turned to him and gazed into his eyes, almost shocked that he was so willing to hear her out. She cleared her throat and faced forward again.
"I don't really want to talk about it much more," she nervously said, trying to change the subject. "Sorry if I was so rude to you at first. When I heard we had a guy from the military, I expected some strict, curt, stick-up-his-ass kinda person."
"Couldn't be further from the truth," McCoy scoffed before feeling a sudden hand on his thigh.
"S-Say, you seem like a very, um… nice guy. Do you ever feel lonely?"
"Sometimes? I guess?" McCoy stammered awkwardly, looking around nervously.
Admittedly, he kind of did sometimes, although he didn't worry about it too often. He expected he'd probably find someone one day, but definitely didn't think it would happen so fast. Were all women like this?
"Tell me, soldier boy. Haven't you ever wanted a girl to be yours to do whatever you want with?" she purred, leaning closer to him. "Please, I'm so fucking lonely. I don't want to die single. Please."
McCoy remained frozen, completely caught up in the moment. He didn't know what to do at all.
She took his lack of response as a sign of consent, and bashfully kissed him on the lips. Those eyes of hers gazed longingly behind her glasses.
"Take me," she whispered.
McCoy winced, still entirely stiff. He didn't know whether to run or whether to go with it, but either way he wouldn't be able to do anything.
Fucking hell.
Lord above, I am finally back. This entire chapter was so damn hard to write, and underwent at least three different revisions. I really did hit a really bad wall with this one. I got really bad writer's block and was unsure where to go with the story, and this was the best way.
I barely know what I'm doing anymore. But I do know how I plan to end it, and we're slowly getting there I guess.
I know the lot of you will be disappointed especially over the lack of DURR HURR MUH RUHMRRZ but it's ok! Chill out! It's not sunken yet! It's just I felt like I should sorta develop the relationship between our two favorite Delta operators more!
Direct any complaints and salt to my PM, please.
Anyway, yeah, time to get to know McCoy a bit more. He's been a relatively boring background guy in this story (much like in the game) so I decided to give him some love.
In this version of the MW2/3 plot, China's cooperated with Russia to an extent and has become one of the factions fighting on the US West Coast. They're also much more powerful, like the Russians.
I will not apologize for bringing the Rainbow Six: Siege GIGN operators into this. I had to make a nod to that game. Don't worry, Derek/Frost is just as aware of how strange it is as we are. The question is now, was his camera stare because he was breaking the fourth wall, or was it because he knows you have to take those things out to fuck with the defending team?
I began writing this way back in June, before I ended up buying Overwatch. Looking at it now, Derek screaming DIE, DIE, DIE is a lot more awkward. Please do not associate that part with Reaper at all, I beg you.
The title is both a nod to the fic that inspired this story, Same Stuff, Different Day, and also a reference to the strange things that happen to both of our heroes on their first "dates…" if you can call 'em that.
Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed. I promise next chapter will make sense and not be a shitty filler that I had to rush out the door.