New Kid On The Block

"So?" Tommy asked. "How did it go? Was Hayes a total badass?"

Brock dropped his bag on the floor at the end of his bed in the room he had shared with Tommy since they had both been placed on the same team eighteen months earlier. Both certified snipers, Brock had completed training as a K9 handler and had recently begun working with a new dog named Cerb.

"He's most definitely a badass," Brock confirmed to his roommate and fellow brother from Team Eight. "But in a different way than I expected."

"What did you expect?" Tommy asked.

"I don't know," Brock said, sitting down on his bed exhausted with his dirty bag on the floor between his legs. "I guess I thought he'd be more in your face, I'm the best there is around here, and it's my way or get the fuck out."

"And he wasn't?" Tommy chuckled.

"Nope," Brock shrugged. "He was definitely in charge and confident every second we were in the field. And that somehow made me feel confident that I knew what I was doing too. But, he leaned on the other senior guys for input a lot more than I expected."

"Really?" Tommy looked surprised also. "I would have expected him to be more 'get in line and follow me, no questions asked'."

"Me too," Brock said, smiling and most definitely impressed. "But he wasn't. He was fucking amazing to watch in action though. Like legit the best I'll probably ever see."

"That I believe," Tommy nodded. "How was he with you?"

"Nothing like I thought he'd be," the kid said. "At first, he kind of shoved me over to the medic, Trent. Without even saying anything. It felt like when my mom would hand me over to my older brother when she was too busy to deal with me. And Trent obviously knew what was expected, because he stuck to me like glue both back in the Green Zone and in the field. He was great. And luckily, I didn't need to see him in action, but literally everyone I met while I was with them referred to Trent as 'the best'."

"So Hayes just ignored you?" Tommy asked, curious as to how the much storied tier one teams operated.

"No," Brock paused, trying to explain so it made sense. "It wasn't like that. He'd check in - ask me how I was doing. Reminded me to go to Trent if I needed anything. To mind the senior guys. Every once in a while, he'd pat my back or mess up my hair and say he was proud of me."

"By the time we were loading up to fly home, Hayes was giving off a grumpy but concerned dad vibe with me," Brock shrugged as if it surprised him as much as it did his friend.

"No fucking way," Tommy said. "Jason Fucking Hayes, Bravo One, was rubbing your head, scolding and telling you to mind like his kid? I call bullshit."

"I know," Brock chuckled, grabbing his shower things from next to his bed and standing to go get cleaned up. "Shocked the shit out of me too. But it's the truth, brother. Scouts Honor."

At twenty-one, Brock had been a sailor for almost three years. Joining up straight out of high school, he had originally planned to serve four years and then use the GI Bill to pay for college back home in California. Those plans changed when Brock and his original roommate in Virginia Beach who were taking some history and language classes together on base attended an information session on becoming SEALS.

They were eighteen at the time, and the guest speaker was a longtime SEAL and tier-one operator named Ray Perry.

Brock and the other kid had stuck around after everyone else to talk to Perry. Brock had told him that he was thinking of becoming a K9 handler. There was something about the quiet determination of the kid that stood out against his more aggressive and outgoing friend.

When Ray ran into the boy a couple years later in Afghanistan where Bravo was on a mission to capture and bring in a target for interrogation, Brock was surprised that the 2IC to the SEAL legend Jason Hayes remembered him. Bravo was waiting around for Blackburn to find them the dog Jason requested to sniff out any possible explosives in the building supposedly housing their target.

"Reynolds isn't it?" Ray had said, approaching the kid who was sitting alone at a table eating cookies in the cafeteria located in the Green Zone where Bravo was currently held up waiting for orders and the dog Hayes had insisted he needed.

"Yes, sir," Brock was clearly surprised to see him. "It's Brock. You remember me?"

"I do," Ray smiled, joining him at the small table. "I'm glad to see you made it through, son. I had a good feeling about you."

"Well, the feeling was mutual," Brock said quietly. "I wasn't too sure about the whole SEAL thing back then. Didn't really know if I had the personality and skills for it. Markell, the guy who was with me when we talked after the meeting, was really gung ho. I kind of just went along hoping for snacks. But after I heard you talk, I thought maybe I should give it some serious thought."

That got a laugh out of Ray. "I'm glad to see you stuck with it," he said. "You wouldn't by any chance have ended up with the K9 training you talked about back then?"

"Yeah," Brock smiled. "I did. Completed the specialized training. I got my second Malinois not too long ago. His name is Cerb. Technically, he chose me, but he's a great dog. Smart. So it's working out so far. Qualified sharpshooter as well."

"Is the dog here with you?" Ray asked, waving over at a table of older guys, clearly veteran operators, who were sitting across the room.

"Yes, sir," Brock hesitated, keeping his eye on the group of very serious men walking towards them. "Is that your team?"

Ray nodded, noting the boy's apprehension. Bravo had that effect on the young kids.

Jason approached the table first, with Sonny and Trent hanging back a few feet behind.

"Boss," Ray said, pointing at the skinny kid who looked to be nineteen, maybe twenty. "This is Reynolds. Brock. I met him a few years ago back home. He's a good kid. And he comes with a dog."

"You're a K9 handler?" Jason asked, getting right down to business. "What Team are you with?"

"Eight sir," Brock said. He was immediately in awe of the Master Chief who he had heard about since starting SEAL training, but had never seen in person.

"How old are you, Broccoli?" Sonny scowled at him from behind Jason. "You look like it might be past your bedtime."

"I'm twenty-one, sir," Brock hesitated, not sure how to take the much older brother.

"You have proof of that, son?" Sonny squinted at him. "Legit military ID. Not something you and the kids from the motor pool ordered online to get you into Foxy's."

"Yes," the kid answered, looking up at Trent who he instinctively sensed was not a threat. "It's on my ID. I turned twenty-one a couple weeks ago."

Trent shook his head at the kid who obviously was a combination of awe struck and intimidated. Tier one operators got that a lot. Particularly Bravo due to their boss's reputation which preceded them pretty much everywhere they went.

"Be nice, Sonny," Trent said, making eye contact with his brother.

"I'm never nice," Sonny returned, turning to face the kid. "Keep that in mind, little dog boy."

"I guess you had better make an exception," Trent chuckled lightly, putting the visibly anxious boy at ease. "It seems to me the boss is warming up to the kid."

"This K9 of yours has been in the field?" Jason asked, ignoring Sonny. "And he's here with your team?"

"Yes, sir," Brock answered respectfully. "Cerb has been field tested on several missions. He's here with me. We just completed an escort mission this afternoon, and we're set to head back home to VB in the morning. We've been here a month."

"Hope you don't have any sweet little girls waiting for you on the tarmac," Sonny chuckled. He had been with Jason more than long enough to know what his brother was thinking. "I have a feeling you and Lassie are going to be spending some quality time with the grown-ups."

Going with Ray's gut, Jason called Blackburn right away and got the young K9 handler attached to Bravo for the rest of the mission. He had wanted to recruit a K9 handler for awhile, but hadn't found one he wanted yet. Bravo One had a good feeling about the kid, and he trusted Ray's judgment, but he wasn't planning on keeping the kid long term.

Maybe he'd be a good fit on Bravo's support team. But the boy was just barely a year out of his teens. He was younger than Mikey who he suspected was currently flirting with the blonds and doing keg stands in Syracuse. He had thanked the kid for his help and sent him back to his dorm on base where he belonged when they touched down safely home in Virginia after the mission was finally completed three weeks later.

"No way. I don't need that kind of stress and responsibility right now, Ray," Jason had scoffed at The Bulkhead shortly after their return.

"It's obvious you like the kid," Trent chimed in. "And he did an admirable job under pressure. Especially for a boy so young."

"I like him because he keeps his mouth shut," Sonny added, motioning over the waitress to order another round for the table. "I say 'jump' and the kid is in the air before I can get the word out. And he won't say shit if his mouth is full of it. If we're taking on a child, I want one who minds and knows his place."

"We're not taking on a child," Jason said firmly, taking his drink from the waitress. "Nate is thirty-four, and he makes me feel old. That kid could be our actual kid. I agree that he's got skills, and he's a great kid. For the support team if he's interested. But not on Bravo. He's not ready."

"Well, boss," Ray said lightly. "It's your call. But you've been telling me to find you a K9 handler for months. And in my opinion, he's our best option. And a good fit for Bravo right now. And who better to train him up than us?"

"It's too dangerous," Jason sighed. "I can't have Brock on my conscience. I'm getting too old for that shit."

"Support is dangerous too, Jase," Trent shrugged. "I agree he's probably too young. But he completed the training. He has three years in the Navy, and over a year on Team Eight. Now that they've seen what he can do with Bravo, you know another team might snatch him up."

"And for the record, boss," Ray added. "Speak for yourself and your two lifetime companions here. I am not old enough to be that kid's father."

"You may want to do the math on that one," Nate smirked. He had been sitting quietly as usual, but he was standing to toss his cash on the table and head home to his wife and kids. "Last time I checked, your thirty-seven, minus the kid's barely twenty-one, leaves sixteen years between you and Brock. You could have most definitely been that boy's baby daddy back in the day when you were 'young, dumb, and full of cum'".

"An Officer and a Gentleman?" Ray suggested.

"Point Break," Sonny laughed. "One of my favorites."

"I gotta get going," Nate said, nodding at the rest of the guys. "Some of us have responsibilities outside of Bravo. I'll see you on base Monday."

"Hold up," Ray said. "I'll walk out with you. Naima's going to kick my ass if I'm not back before eleven. Think about the kid, Jase. He might be just who we need to fill the void."

"What the fuck 'void' do we need filled?" Sonny asked, confused after they left.

"I think when Bravo Two says 'we', it's actually 'he'," Trent said, rolling his eyes and nodding toward Jason.

"Me?" Jason scoffed. "I don't need any 'voids' filled. I have more than enough to keep me busy."

"We all know you're continually busy, Jase," Trent said, finishing his drink. "But now that your nest is empty, I'm thinking our observant 2IC, and likely his perceptive wife, are thinking maybe a stray puppy from the pound wouldn't be a bad thing. And for the record I agree."

"For the record," Jason said sarcastically. "I wasn't asking for opinions."

"Okay, okay," Trent said, raising his hands in defeat. "Ray's right. It's your call. And I need to get home as well. Janice probably won't be waiting up, but she's definitely left a to-do list that I need to tackle first thing when the sun comes up tomorrow. I'll see you guys on Monday."

"Later, brother," Sonny said, raising his glass.

"What do you think, seriously Sonny?" Jason asked his longtime friend and loyal brother. Once the others had left, the only two guys with no one looking for them at home were alone again at a table covered with empty bottles.

"Well, Jase," Sonny said seriously. "I think your concerns are valid. He's just a kid. A good kid with great potential. But still a boy. And we both know how this life can grind you up."

"We surely do," Jason nodded solemnly.

"Seeing him running around with the dog looking like a teenager who ought to be home trying to dodge his curfew had my heart in my throat every time we took him out in the field," Sonny said, waving over the waitress and a couple shots of whiskey. Spotting their longtime brother Derrick and his pretty wife across the room eating dinner, Sonny knew he and Bravo One would be hitching a ride home and calling Trent in the morning to bring them back for their trucks.

"So you agree he's too fucking young and green for Bravo?" Jason asked.

"He's definitely too young for any of this shit," Sonny shrugged. "But, so were we when we boarded this ship thirty years ago."

"We joined the Navy thirty years ago," Jason scoffed. "We sure as shit weren't ready for tier one at that point. We were both well in our mid-thirties when we became Bravo. And so was Trent. Ray and Nate were both thirty. This boy is barely into his twenties. He's getting proofed at the mini-mart and probably sitting in the dorm playing on a fucking PlayStation with the other kids right now."

"Probably," Sonny nodded.

"But you and Trent agree with Ray that we should take him," Jason sighed. "And Nate doesn't give a fuck because he's just doing his time until he moves up or moves out."

"I think, as usual, Ray is clear-eyed and reasonable about this," Sonny said. "You've been saying we need a dog and handler for months. And you are right. It's a liability to be 'borrowing' random guys to go with us. We need a permanent K9 handler on Bravo who knows his shit. And this kid clearly knows his shit, regardless of how young he is."

"We do," Jason said, motioning to the waitress that they were switching back to beer, and signaling to his neighbor, who was chuckling and shaking his head from across the room, that his Uber services would be required.

"And you know, old Mother Trent has a sixth sense about these things," Sonny said. "That kid already has his grimy little claws in our soft-hearted medic. I know you saw him bird doggin' Grumplestiltskin everywhere he went back in the sandbox."

"Yup," Jason said, leaning back and fiddling with a bottle cap. "Trent's hooked. And between me and you Sonny, I have a bad feeling about our soft-hearted brother and the third Mrs. Sawyer."

"Between you and me, brother," Sonny was hammered now. "The bitch never deserved him."

"Fuck," Jason snorted. "I was hoping you would tell me I was crazy."

"She's got one foot out the door, Jase," Sonny confirmed his fears sadly. "It's only a matter of time."

"You think Trent knows?" Jason asked, shaking his head.

"Trent knows everything about the people who are lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his love and loyalty," Sonny said quietly. "He's resigned. I think the kid was a distraction for him while we were away. But now, I'm guessing he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Fuck," Jason said.

"Yep," Sonny nodded. "Fuck."

A month later, Brock found himself and Cerb deployed with Bravo for two months in Syria. His team leader had approached him and said that Hayes had come to him and requested Brock personally.

"I don't know what you've got up under your skirt, kid," his boss had said, shaking his head. "But Hayes isn't known for lowering himself to walk among us mere mortals. He usually sends Perry to do his bidding when he wants something. I don't know if it's you or your mutt that caught the eye of the king, but you need to pack up your gear and your dog chow, because you, son, are heading out for a luxury stay in bone dry, hot as fuck, Syria."

"Why does he want me?" Brock was genuinely confused.

"I'm not exactly sure, kiddo," his team leader mused. Team Eight's boss was in his mid-forties and happily counting down his last days to full retirement where he planned to 'drive his girls to school every morning, and be the proudest papa in the stands on Friday nights when his son was out on the field kicking ass and taking names.'

"But heads up, Brock," warned the father of four, who had been a great first team leader to the young, quiet kid from California. "I don't know Hayes personally. But, I got the distinct impression that this spin up is your audition for the big leagues."

"You really think so, boss?" Brock looked skeptical. "I mean, the guys seem to like me okay. And Hayes was proud of how I did with them in Afghanistan according to Trent. But, the rest of those tier one guys are pretty old, no offense."

"None taken, kid," the balding team leader laughed. "I wear my longevity and survival for going on twenty years as a frogman as a badge of honor. And I pray every night that you and the rest of my boys are as fortunate as I have been."

"There's a few guys I met on other tier one teams in their late twenties or early thirties, but most of those operators have been around a long time as far as I can tell," Brock hesitated. "Bravo Five is in his mid-thirties, and Perry is a few years older than him. But the rest of them are older than you, boss. And they don't seem to be planning to ride off into the sunset as far as I could tell. So I'm not sure I'd really fit in there. Or be good enough for them."

"I've been around twenty long years, son," the older man said, reaching out to squeeze the clearly anxious boy's neck. "And when Bravo One approaches me in polite mode 'requesting' to 'borrow' my K9 kid, as he referred to you, and he offers to have Captain Blackburn scare up my pick of the litter from the new class of K9 handlers to 'fill in' while you're 'with him'. My experience tells me that unless you do something monumentally dimwitted, which I am confident is not your style or I wouldn't have agreed to let you go with him. So, barring an unlikely screw up, I have a feeling that you are soon to be getting your very own key to a cage up on the second floor."

Brock had learned a shit ton during the last time Hayes had plucked him up to tag along with Cerb back in Afghanistan. And he liked the other guys, especially Ray and the medic, Trent, who had taken him under his wing without hesitation, making sure he was doing okay with the sudden leap to the big leagues. And keeping him within sight pretty much 24/7.

Sonny could be intimidating, and he clearly enjoyed teasing the much younger SEAL, but Brock also knew he had his back one hundred percent. And Bravo's resident grumpy old geezer never moved out without checking over his shoulder to be sure 'Little Orphan Annie and her scruffy Hair Missle' were tailing either him or Trent.

Nate, the youngest official team member, was standoffish and could be prickly. But the boss trusted him to go high, and he did his job protecting their backs. Occasionally, he would take a seat next to Brock and purposely annoy Sonny with jabs about his age, his weight, or when he really wanted to piss him off, Texas. Brock didn't mind the team's official sniper, but he'd learned over time that snipers were their own breed, and he didn't approach the guy unless Nate opened the door - and even then, he kept his distance.

Brock had never been deployed in Syria, and it was like Afghanistan in some ways. Most obviously the heat and the sand. But Syria had a completely different feel to it. His team had spent most of their time in Afghanistan in and around Kabul which was crowded with both military and civilians. Jason had explained to him on the plane that their outpost in Syria would be in the rural desert. No large bases or Green Zones. Not a lot of civilians out in the open like in Kabul. A lot of hills and caves. The enemy was more elusive. He and Cerb would be spending most of their time making sure the areas they patrolled were free of hidden explosives. But he also needed to be ready at all times for sudden and unexpected combat.

At night it was completely black and quiet outside the wire of their outpost. They were stationed with a platoon of around 40 Marines, mostly young guys like Brock. But the SEAL teams which included Bravo, Alpha and their support teams were set up in temporary barracks separate from the Marines who were there on a more long term basis. Bravo and Alpha were bunking together in two barracks. The barracks for the main teams had two small rooms which were home for the team leaders and their 2IC, and two larger rooms with bunks, one each for Bravo and Alpha. The support teams had their own similar barracks next door down.

The Marines were set up on the other side of the temporary outpost. They were doing mostly training for Syrian opposition troops and patrolling the area. The SEALS were also patrolling when not involved in specific missions that would be assigned often with little warning, quick briefing, and usually at zero dark thirty.

There were common areas that included a small dining hall, bathrooms with open shower areas, a briefing room, communications room, and a small six bed infirmary. As advertised - it was rural with none of the wifi or internet that allowed communication with home.

Jason had made it clear to Trent that he was on babysitting duty for the duration of the deployment. And that was fine with Bravo Four.

Trent had taken an immediate liking to the smart, well mannered kid who was a quick learner and team player. Brock was clearly comfortable following orders. Sonny hadn't been wrong back home when he claimed the kid was in the air before he could finish the word 'jump'. He respectfully followed orders from all the senior guys - both Bravo and Alpha. He understood his job and lived up to the expectations Jason had for him in the field. And as Sonny had predicted, the kid spent most of his down time bird dogging the medic.

Metal, aka Alpha One, referred to the new kid as Trent's Shadow and scoffed at the idea that the boy was with Bravo on a 'trial basis'.

"Spare me that bullshit, Quinn," Metal had laughed when the senior guys were having an invite-only 'old geezer bitchfest' as Nate coined the circle of older guys around a fire behind the barracks drinking Bud Light. "That little shit isn't going anywhere. Well, except possibly home with Hayes to be his replacement kid."

"I have two kids," Jason said, rolling his eyes at his longtime brother. "And I sure as shit don't need any replacements or add ons."

"I agree with that, brother," Metal said, solemnly. "You most certainly don't need any new babies. But, I'm willing to lay down a hundred bucks to anyone stupid enough to bet that kid will be splitting his time between Mikey's bedroom and Trent's spare room when we arrive back home."

"That's a sucker's bet," Derrick laughed. "Little Brown Eyes and his furry sidekick have easily conquered Trent. And we all know Jason is a sucker for an orphan in need of a daddy. It's only a matter of time before Master Chief Hayes is subdued as well."

"The kid is hardly an orphan," Ray said. "He's got parents and a bunch of older siblings somewhere in California."

"Somewhere in California?" Josh raised his eyebrows, smiling. "3,000 miles from Virginia Beach?"

"Okay. As a rule, I hate to indulge Metal's nonsense," Alpha Four continued. "But that kid, a decade and a half younger than your current youngest - the sniper who is a husband and father of two, is most definitely begging for someone to take him off the porch, feed him, and let him sneak up on the couch at night when no one's looking."

"Sorry Boss," Sonny shrugged, reaching for another beer. "I'm gonna have to cross team lines and go with Alpha on this one. That kid is a sneaky one. If you're not careful, he'll slip right past you into the house and under your bed when you're not paying attention. He's already got Trent whupped."

"And you're not, Sonny?" Trent scoffed.

"Nope," Sonny said, folding his arms like a redneck Buddha. "I'm immune to the charms of sad little waifs."

"Keep telling yourself that, Sonny," Ray chuckled, taking a drink and rolling his eyes at Bravo's top-secret softie. "I see you keeping the kid in your sights when he's not attached to Trent."

"Well, I'm not heartless," Sonny said. "He's a good kid, and I don't want him to step on a mine or get lost in the desert. But, I'm not soft-headed enough to get conned into taking him home with me."

"And, Sonny, I'm sure that's a great relief to sad, daddyless, dog handlers everywhere," Josh said lightly.

"Seriously though," Derrick said, looking over at his Alpha counterpart. "How's the kid doing? This is a big jump for someone so young. None of us saw anything near the kind of shit he's going to see and do with Bravo until we were in our thirties. He's what? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"Twenty-one," Jason sighed, shaking his head. "Just barely."

"It's getting real for him now," Trent said seriously. "He was better prepared for what to expect in Afghanistan. This middle of nowhere, no big firepower covering your ass, dark as shit at night, out on missions with limited, sometimes questionable intel is something we all built up to over years. He's trying to hold it together with the big boys, but we all know it's got to be scary as shit for him."

"He's not sleeping steady at night," Sonny said. "Popping up in his sleep. Trying to calm himself down by going for water from the cooler in the middle of the night, pretending he's thirsty because he doesn't want to close his eyes."

"He doesn't have the rhythm yet of sleeping when you get the opportunity," Trent said. "He's got that 'anything could happen and I need to be on guard' anxiety. The kid doesn't really know us yet. He doesn't understand how it works out here. That we have him covered 24/7."

"But you think he's going to come around," Ray stated.

"I do," Trent said, confidently. "He's going to take time and patience. He's a fucking kid. Literally. But he's a good kid, smart as shit. Wants to do a good job for us. He's a team player and a rule follower at heart. He's going to fuck up and make immature mistakes for sure. But, nothing worse than the bad choices and near disasters every one of us here made at his age."

"Difference is," Metal said, leaning back and making eye contact with Jason. "None of us was anywhere near tier-one at his age. He's a huge responsibility. You up for that, brother?"

"I guess, I'm gonna need to be up for that," Jason said somberly. "Because you're right, Metal. He's latched on now. And I'm officially a worn down old guy who doesn't have it in me to toss him back in the water."

"We're all getting old and worn down," Metal said, reaching for another bottle. "But Alpha has your back. Always. And your young rookie's too."