A/N: Hehe...well, here's the new chapter after a long hiatus. Tell me what you think.
Soon, it was 1800 hours. Dinner time. Meat, Royce, Gary, and John were walking towards the Mess Hall…with a crowd of soldiers surrounding them, asking them questions. Most of the questions were given to John, asking how he did that feat in the gun range. The four FNGs didn't like the attention that they were getting. They just want to relax for one last time before their lives get tough. The pestering crowd was preventing that, though.
"HEEEYYYY!!" Royce yelled at the top of his lungs, to get the crowd's attention, "Look, we want to relax before our training starts tomorrow. We just want a good meal, some down time, and some sleep." The other three agreed to this. "Okay, guys?"
The crowd nodded, they understood. They all went to the Mess Hall together. Once they've reached the Mess Hall, the other troops let the four FNGs first. It was their custom to let the new guys go first. The four got trays filled of baked chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and scrambled corn. Each tray accompanied by a bottle of Gatorade. The four found a spot on a nearby table. They sat down and ate their meal.
Between bites, Meat asked, "Why…couldn't the Mess…have this kind of food…when I was doing a tour in Afghan?"
John drank some of the sports drink and replied, "I don't know…maybe the British serve a different kind of meal than the U.S."
"Actually, it's your last taste of a normal dinner," a familiar British voice said behind him.
Royce nearly choked on a piece of chicken when he heard that voice. The four turned around and saw the same body structure of 1st Lieutenant Riley. However, he wore some kind of mask. It was a balaclava with a skull pattern on the front and he wore red sunglasses.
"Lieutenant Riley? Is that you, sir?" Gary asked.
"Of course," Riley replied.
Royce crossed his arms and he gave a mischievous grin. "Let me guess: the mask and the sunglasses have to do with your nickname, sir?" Royce asked.
"Right again, you bugger. On the battlefield, you call me Ghost, understand?" The four looked at each other and nodded; they've understood why he was called Ghost. His accent, the mask, the sunglasses, and his ability to sneak up on people matched perfectly. Ghost then looked at Gary and asked, "Still don't have a nickname?"
Gary sadly looked at the ground and replied, "Not yet, sir."
"Hey, don't worry; I'm sure you'll come up with something." Then he addressed to all four directly as he said, "The Captain would like to see you four." He then pointed to a man sitting three tables in front of them. The man had a shaven head, except for the Mohawk in the middle of his head, a five o'clock shadow beard, and a scar above his left eye. He was eating among his fellow troops. "Bring your trays if you want," Ghost suggested.
"Yes, sir," the four recruits chanted at once. They got up, took their trays, and walked to the Captain's table.
The Captain saw them and said, "Ah…the new recruits. Find a spot and let's talk." The man had a very noticeable Scottish accent. Following his orders, they've sat on the other side of the table and looked at the table face-to-face. "My name is John MacTavish, and I'm your Commanding Officer. I've heard about the event at the gun range, and I have to say I'm impressed with your performance."
Gary's throat felt dry, so he nervously swallowed some saliva before he announced, "Thank you sir. I'm Sergeant Sanderson, the man on my left is Sergeant Alex 'Royce' Wolfe, the one on the right is Corporal Benjamin Forest, but he's called—"
"It's 'Meat', yes?" MacTavish asked.
Meat was surprised to hear this. "H-How do you know my nickname, sir?" Meat stammered.
"You all met Ghost, yes?" They all nodded. "He's a man of his word: he did tell me your nickname, Corporal. I have to admit, I had a laugh when I heard it; more original than what other soldiers gave."
John leaned forward on the table and admitted, "It's an honor to meet you face-to-face Captain MacTavish. I've heard all of your accomplishments from my brother."
MacTavish raised an eyebrow, interested. "Ah…now I know why you look so familiar: your brother is Private Louis Ramirez?"
John nodded and added, "Well, he's now a Sergeant in the USMC. Did you know that he's going to do that Warp-Drive test flight?"
"Yeah, I've heard…the man deserves that job…after what he's been through…" MacTavish said solemnly. John sadly looked down at the ground, and slowly nodded, agreeing with MacTavish
Gary noticed the sadness in MacTavish's voice. "Wait…what do you mean, sir?"
MacTavish closed his eyes, recollecting old and painful memories. Royce, Meat, and Gary leaned forward, waiting to hear MacTavish's explanation. "It happened during the Second Russian Civil War. Before we had the joint-op with the USMC, John's brother, Louis, was in Afghan with his squad. There were assaulting the Capital City, having reports of Khaled Al-Asad being in the city. During the assault, they received reports of a nuclear bomb in the city, so the Force Recon had to retreat. Louis told me that he and his friends, Staff Sergeant Griggs, Corporal Heath, and Private First Class Lansford, got separated from their squad and entered a different transport. They saw a Black Hawk attack helicopter got shot down, and the rest of their squad went in to rescue the pilots. There were far away from the city when it happened: the nuke detonated. Although they were far from the explosion, they know that the rest of the squad was killed."
He paused for a few brief seconds, and then continued, "After that, they were assigned to do a Joint-op with us, the SAS. We tracked down any possible leads to find the Russian Ultranationalist Terrorist leader, Imran Zakhaev, with the Russian Loyalists. Eventually, we've tracked down Zakhaev at a Nuclear Missile Launch site in the Altay Mountains. We chased him from the site, took enemy transportation, and chased his helicopter on a highway bridge. His helicopter blew up part of the bridge, but we managed to get out of the rubble and climb onto the intact section of the highway. We took cover behind the ruined vehicles. Louis told us to give him some cover fire as he ran to the left side of the bridge. However…it went to hell as there was a Gasoline Trucker behind us. It exploded and knocked my squad and the Louis's squad on our asses. Louis was far from the explosion, but he got shrapnel cut on his neck."
Now things were getting harder for MacTavish to tell, the memories still haunt him. "I was lying next to a burning car, which was bound to explode. Griggs tried to drag me into safer cover, but the poor lad got shot in the neck. Then I saw Zakhaev personally execute the rest of the team, except for me, Louis, and my Captain at the time, Price. Louis was bleeding badly, but he had enough strength to fire at Zakhaev and his bodyguards from a safe distance. He missed, but he got them distracted. Price slid his pistol to me and I took it. I aimed at the bastard and his body guards and pulled the trigger. Soon, I saw them lying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding their bodies. I then saw Louis limped towards me, and I saw the cut on his throat. Didn't cut through the jugular, but it was still deep enough to cause a lot of blood loss. He then fell to the ground unconscious, and that's when the Russian Loyalists came in and extracted both Louis and me."
"What happened to Price?" Meat asked.
MacTavish shook his said as he quietly replies, "I don't know, I fell unconscious when they attempted to resuscitate Price."
"What happened next?" Royce asked.
"We woke up in a hospital in Moscow, Russia. Louis was the first one to regain consciousness, but he was clearly a different man. He was young, and his squad was his family and his responsibility. He never clearly saw the horror of war until he lost it all. He was filled with survivor-grief and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. When I regain consciousness, I asked Louis how was he, but he didn't say anything and avoided any kind of contact with people. A few days later, he was shipped back to the States. The nurse found a picture in his room, but since he left, she gave it to me just in case if I ever see him again, but I never did."
"Sir, do you still have my brother's picture?" John asked, wanting to return one of his brother's personal effects when he goes back home.
"As a matter of fact…" MacTavish then dug into his pants pockets and retrieved a glossy piece of paper. "Once I've heard that you were coming, John, I kept it in my pocket. Here." He then passed the photo to John.
John took the photo and studied the image. Louis and his squad was in the picture; laughing, having the time of their lives. In front of Louis was a hastily prepared cake with a candle on top of it. Then John looked at the date at the bottom right hand corner and was heart-broken when he saw it: August 28, 2011…Louis's birthday.
"I think I now know why he was depressed…" John announced solemnly, "This photo was taken on his birthday. His squad must have given him a birthday party before the war."
"It's a sad thing, isn't it?" Ghost asked behind the four recruits. They turned to him as he continued, "One day, they were there with him, and in a blink of an eye, they're gone."
John nodded and put the photo in his pocket. "I don't know if Louis would be glad to have this back."
"You should give it to him," Meat suggested, "That photo is the last link of Louis's squad. It keeps the squad's memories alive, and giving it back to Louis would make him treasure the fond memories they had together."
"You sure?" Royce asked, "It could cause Louis to go in some kind of depression, again."
"It doesn't matter if you remember the memories of lost love ones, Alex." Meat used Royce's real name to get through to him. "It's what you do with the memories is what keeps them alive."
"I don't know…" John admitted, "He was almost suicidal after the first few weeks he was home."
"Well, you can tell him that you have his photo after dinner," MacTavish informed John, "Phones are inside the barracks, but it's your call. The Task Force has free time after dinner, but lights out at 2130."
Gary took another bite from the chicken and asked, "What kind of training do we expect tomorrow?"
Lieutenant Riley replied, "Morning runs around the compound, then calisthenics, hand-to-hand combat, and then we go to the gun range and run 'the Pit'."
John recognized the term, "the Pit". Back when he was stationed in Afghan, there was a shoot house called "the Pit". Basically, you have to run through the course and shoot all 25 targets portrayed as terrorists and end with the fastest time. However, there are eleven targets portrayed as civilians; shoot any of the civilians and it's a two second penalty to your time. I wonder if anyone beaten my time back at Fire Base Phoenix? John wondered. His run through time was 23.68 seconds; no civilians were shot and used a Bushmaster Adaptive Combat Rifle and a USP.45 handgun.
"So John…" John bolted from his thoughts and looked at Captain MacTavish. "Ghost has told me about your display of marksmanship at the gun range. You told Ghost something you call 'adrenaline surge;' I'm curious on what you meant."
John gave it a thought, trying to come up with the words to explain it. How do I explain this? John scratched the back of his head as he stammered, "W-well…it's hard to explain, Captain. It's something that my entire family can do; I'm not sure if anyone else can do it. Well, basically: it is a person's ability to use adrenaline fully…what Louis describe as becoming a so-called super soldier. My father passed the lesson to my sister, who passed it to Louis, and who passed it to me and James. We all know that when facing extreme dangers, we get a burst of adrenaline, yes?" The entire group nodded. "What Louis said is that he believes fear is a resistant, preventing the user to use this ability. He believes if the person accepts that the he or she could die any minute during combat, thus removing that fear, the adrenaline in the bloodstream flows…um…perfectly. This in turn gives the user enhanced senses, able to ignore most pain, super-human quick-time reflexes, and un-human speed."
MacTavish was intrigued by John's explanation. He gave it a thought, and said, "That seems…interesting. Are you sure that no one else can do it?"
John shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I don't know, Captain. All I know is that my entire family can do this ability. I have no idea if anyone else can do it."
"We could see if the other troops can do this ability during PT tomorrow morning," Ghost suggested.
"You could try, but I really doubt that anyone else can do it," John disagreed.
"We won't know until we try."
Later…
It was 2100 when dinner was over. The four said goodbye to Captain MacTavish and Ghost and walked back to their barracks. Once inside, they took turns taking showers. After John took his shower, he wore a sleeveless shirt and sleeping shorts. He hesitantly walked to the phones in the barracks and stood in front of the wall phones. John's throat felt dry, so he swallowed some saliva. He picked up the phone and dialed Louis's phone number.
He only heard the phone tone, until Louis's voice came through the speaker. "Hello? This Sergeant Ramirez, who am I speaking to?"
"Hello, bro. It's me, John," John replied.
"Oh, hey there Johnny! How's your first day in the Task Force? Did you meet MacTavish?"
"Yeah…I did. He is everything you told me; he told us about his leadership and how much he cares about his troops. The other recruits and I just have a free day today, but we still went to the gun range."
"Did you get a perfect score?" Louis asked, curious.
"Yeah I did; I've used the adrenaline surge. Which reminds me: MacTavish asked me about the ability and I told him about it. He wants to see if the other soldiers can do it during training tomorrow."
"Really? I'll be amazed if others can do it," Louis admitted.
John didn't say anything for a few brief moments. He was deep in thought and worried. Should I tell him about the picture? John wondered. Should I risk of getting him into another depression?
Louis must have noticed the silence as he asked, "John, you alright?"
John bolted from his thoughts and replied, "Y-yeah, I'm alright. I…I have to go now; it's almost lights out."
"Oh, okay. Goodnight, little bro." With that said, John hung up the phone.
John slowly walked towards his bunk and plopped on top of it. He felt guilty for not telling Louis about the photo, but he didn't want to risk on getting Louis depressed again.
"What the…?" Gary exclaimed out loud. John turned to his left, to see what caused Gary to say this. Gary picked something up from his pillow. Once John got a better look of what Gary was holding, he saw it was a huge roach. Gary put the bug on the ground and, instead of killing it, he let it go. "First day in the Task Force and already I've encountered roaches," Gary complained out loud.
Then, an idea popped into John's mind. "I think I've found your nickname, Gary," John announced.
Gary chuckled and shook his head, thinking it was joke. However, when he looked at John, John really meant it. "Wait…you can't be serious. Nicknamed after a bug?" Gary asked, dumbfounded.
"Well Ghost isn't going to stop asking if you have a nickname till you have one. Why not?"
"Well…I guess," Gary admitted. "Gary 'Roach' Sanderson…it kinda sounds catchy."
Then the ceiling lights turned off and then changed to red lights, filling the barracks with a red light. It wasn't bright, but it wasn't dark.
"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" Meat yelled out loud, "I can't sleep with this kind of light on!"
John understood why Meat was so upset; he was sleeping on the bunk above John, so the light was directly on Meat.
"Well you've got to get used to it, Meat," Royce said, "It's going to be like this, every night."
Meat grumbled and tried to go to sleep.
John pulled the rough blanket over him and rested his head on the rough pillow. He then closed his eyes, ready for the training tomorrow.