AUTHOR'S NOTE: Between August 2024 and April 2025, Who Dares Wins underwent an early retelling of the opening phase of Chuck and Sarah. So, if you may have read the story before then, the first nine chapters have been modified extensively, having released a brand-new retelling of Chapter 9 on Friday, 25 April, 2025. The entire chapter is one hundred percent new, with the whole contents being freshly written throughout this week. With the main part of the retelling complete now after Chapter 9, all that is left is a retelling of the morning after events that take place in the new Ch9, and beyond that, a few words here or there to facilitate the new early WDW in the chapters that follow Chapter 9.
AUTHOR'S NOTE II: My story, Redemption, inspired this fiction, as did a military TV show I love, Ultimate Force. Together, both things helped me create the complex characters and universe within the story.
SUMMARY: When the ban on women serving in Ground Close Roles in the British Army lifted in 2006 (fictional account, the actual date this happened in reality was 2018), Sarah's ambitions to contribute in a more significant way ignited. With no obstacle now in her way from choosing whichever path she wanted, she knew the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment was the ultimate challenge. Almost instantly, she applied for immediate selection to prove she was up for it. Passing selection, they assigned Sarah to Red Team, Mobility Troop, G Squadron, 22 SAS, where she meets, amongst others, Chuck Bartowski, who passed his own selection three years earlier.
DISCLAIMERS: Please note that any missions described in this work of fiction are fictional and created by the author's imagination. So if they detail something classified that occurred before, that wasn't my intention, and I did not know. I would like to state that while I don't own any rights to the property of Chuck, I do have ownership over the original characters in this fiction and the story's universe.
WARNING: This fiction is not for the faint of heart as it contains military violence and frequent use of foul language. I aim to capture the cast's raw and authentic nature of their real-life counterparts, thus portraying them as enlisted soldiers and the cream of the crop. To depict the soldiers of this prestigious regiment in this way, this fiction will be filled with vibrant language for that purpose.
Who Dares Wins
Chapter One: You're in the Army Now
Tuesday, 2 October, 2007
Stirling Lines
Credenhill
United Kingdom
The clock struck eight, sharp and smug as a brass bugle, its chime echoing down the concrete corridors of 22 Regiment SAS's top secret base. Corporal Chuck Bartowski was already dressed, boots laced, belt tight, pulse quietly ticking in time with the melody. The sound always made him smile.
Another day in the Regiment.
He stepped outside his accommodation and into the clean bite of morning air in the barracks' hallway. Through the window view outside, the base was already stirring—men in PT gear jogging past, Land Rovers rumbling by, some poor soul getting barked at across the quad. Chuck watched it all through narrowed eyes, hands on hips, letting the hum of purpose wrap around him like armour.
This place—this life—wasn't just something he chose. It was something bred into him.
Eight years ago, he'd signed the dotted line, fresh out of college, a 19-year-old with the whole world ahead of him. He could've gone anywhere—Cambridge, Oxford, MIT even, according to the recruiter who blinked hard at his off-the-charts A-Level scores. But Chuck had smiled, shaken his head, and said, "I've got different plans, mate." The Bartowskis didn't do lecture halls. They did history.
And Chuck had an unbroken three-hundred-year legacy of a Bartowski in the British Army to honour.
His grandfather had dragged a bayonet through the muck at Monte Cassino. His father had flown into Kuwait under tracer fire. Somewhere in the family vault was a musket from Waterloo and a sabre his ancestor supposedly used during the American Revolution. Chuck had grown up on those stories—gritty, brutal tales told in his dad's or his granddad's low, proud voices over Sunday roasts and firelight.
Now Chuck wore the beige beret, the first in his line to pass selection and join the esteemed SAS, the best of the best. His dad hadn't cried, exactly, but his throat had gone tight, and he hadn't said much for a long time after the ceremony.
His mum and sister had never approved. Not really. His mum, Mary—sharp as a razor and richer than half the City thanks to her finance job—thought the army was for other people's sons. Not hers. And Ellie, his sister, a doctor in the NHS, would rather stitch bullet holes than risk catching one. But they'd struck a deal back then: Chuck could join after finishing college. Not university—college. Chuck had honoured that deal. His family had reluctantly honoured theirs.
He missed them. The Regiment didn't allow much room for family visits. Especially now—midway through a six-month counter-terror rotation. Two troops are always on immediate standby. No weekends home. No late trains to London. Not even a pint off-base. Well, for the last one at least, it would not stand under scrutiny.
His eyes flicked toward the perimeter fence.
If the call came now...
"Corporal?"
The voice cut through his thoughts like a cold slap. Chuck turned, straightening instinctively. Captain Richard Wallace stood nearby, arms crossed, face unreadable beneath his dark beret.
Chuck blinked once, then said evenly, "Morning, boss."
"Good morning. I'm sure you're aware of the two recruits joining the team after passing selection today?" the captain asked, his voice clipped but casual like a man ticking off a box on a long list of classified responsibilities.
Chuck nodded. "I am, boss. I watched a little of their SERE (The Defence Survive, Evade, Resist, Extract Training Organization)—the escape and evasion phase especially. Took a beating, but they handled themselves. Smart soldiers. One's quiet, the other a little too cocky, but this place will wean it out of him in quick time."
The captain's expression warmed slightly. He returned a small, knowing smile, his pale eyes watching Chuck the way only someone who'd once passed the same brutal test could. "It's why I flagged you."
Chuck raised a brow but stayed quiet.
"The recruits will be arriving shortly," Wallace continued. "Do you think you could be a splendid chap and show them the ropes? Kit them out. Get them squared away in their quarters. I want them fed, hydrated, and looking like soldiers before our formal sit-down at eleven hundred."
Chuck gave a single nod. "Consider it done, boss."
"Good man." Wallace extended a hand—brief, firm handshake, nothing sentimental—and turned without ceremony, disappearing out of the barracks.
Chuck exhaled hard through his nose, rubbing his face once with a calloused hand.
There goes the morning plans.
He'd promised a few of the lads on his team some time together before the duties of the day commenced. But whatever. This took priority. Always did. He'd gotten the same welcome once. No one forgets their first walk through the wire.
Cole Barker had done it for him, and Cole had done it right—laid it all out, no sugar, no showboating. Just facts. The mess, the armoury, the barracks, and the killing house. Where to go. Where not to go. Where to shut your mouth and listen.
Chuck owed his best friend big for that. It helped ground him into the regiment and kickstart his special forces career with his first foot forward.
He could return the favour.
Once.
The next time would belong to someone else.
For they shared the load in this regiment.
With his frustration cooling fast, Chuck picked up the pace, exiting the barracks and moving across the quad with that familiar, loose gait—shoulders relaxed, spine straight, like someone who knew exactly how many corners were on this base and who'd died wearing the beret before his time.
He walked for a short moment until arriving at a red Range Rover, one of the troop's service vehicles. Chuck ran his hand across the bonnet, fingers catching on the dust of Hereford autumn—damp, fine, clingy as chalk. His boots thudded against the steel step rail as he climbed in.
Key in. Engine alive. Dash glowing amber.
Chuck didn't turn on the radio.
He liked the silence. It was the rare kind—not just quiet, but still. No comms chatter, no rotor blades, no sharp echoes from a gun battle. Just the engine purring under his palm and the faint hiss of tyres on gravel as he rolled down toward the main gate.
The base passed around him in measured pieces—firing ranges, comms towers, the main building of the regimental HQ. A pair of new guys ran past in kit too clean, one of them glancing at Chuck's vehicle. Chuck didn't wave.
They're not yours.
He pulled up just before the gate—two MPs stationed there, standing in mirrored posture, rifles at rest but eyes sharp. Chuck killed the engine and leaned back in his seat, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.
And waited.
He watched the tree line beyond the fence. Watched the gravel shimmer under the morning sun. Watched the small figures emerge in the distance—two silhouettes in fatigues and issue rucksacks, backs straight despite the weight.
Chuck narrowed his eyes.
Recruits were never late. Not here.
He let his fingers go still.
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
Chuck observed as his new teammates cleared themselves to enter the camp by providing the armed MPs with their new identity cards. Once the rookies cleared security, Chuck climbed out of his vehicle. His boots crunched on the gravel as he made his way to greet the two newest additions to the Regiment.
The lack of kit was obvious—both recruits were still in civilian clothes, waiting on the armoury to issue their gear. Chuck, on the other hand, wore his custom SAS uniform, his pager clipped and ready. His troop was one of only two standing at immediate notice for counter-terror operations anywhere in the UK.
As he approached, Chuck extended a hand and grinned. "Hey. Chuck Bartowski."
His handshake was formal, firm, and confident.
"Bryce Larkin," said the first recruit, returning the shake with a smile.
Chuck gave a nod and turned toward the second.
"Sarah Walker," she said, matching his smile and taking his hand.
"Welcome to the Regiment," Chuck said, maintaining the warmth in his tone.
"Thanks," Bryce replied.
"Thank you," Sarah echoed.
Chuck lingered near the gate, watching them both. "You two went through SERE together, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Sarah answered.
Bryce nodded in agreement.
"The way you outmanoeuvred SFSG (Special Forces Support Group) during the exercise was impressive," Chuck said. "I was watching closely."
"Thanks," Bryce said.
"We dodged them at every turn. They never even came close," Sarah said, her tone rising with irritation. "And we still got hauled in for interrogation!"
Chuck laughed. He remembered the feeling well—escaping the hunter force himself, only to end up blindfolded and shouted at for thirty-six hours straight. Sarah's visible annoyance also amused him.
Oh, she's going to be a feisty one.
Chuck shrugged. "That's how it works. You don't get the beret just for running fast and hiding well. You've got to prove you can take the worst the Regiment can throw at you. That's when you get the privilege of wearing it."
"Yeah, I get it," Bryce said.
Sarah gave a curt nod.
"I didn't get to see your interrogations, though—had other fires to put out. So… how was it?" Chuck asked, grinning like he already knew the answer.
They were hell!
Of course, they were.
He'd endured it himself—the endless lights, the sleep deprivation, the shouting, the humiliation. Strip searches. Psychological attacks. They'd tear you apart and insult your family. If you gave anything beyond name, rank, serial number, and date of birth, your entire nine months of training went out the window. Disqualified. Returned to your unit. Fail twice, and you were done for good.
"Horrible," Bryce said, half-laughing, shaking his head.
Chuck smiled.
"Awful. I thought I was going to crack," Sarah admitted. "They got to me."
Chuck let out a laugh. "Yeah. I still have nightmares about mine—and that was three years ago."
"I can see why," Sarah said, giving him a look. "I'll probably be the same."
Chuck nodded, then turned to Bryce.
"The female instructor wouldn't shut up about my... you know," Bryce said, glancing down with a smirk.
Sarah chuckled.
Chuck frowned. "That all? Sounds like they let you off easy. Mine spent god knows how long screaming about my mum and my sister."
"Oh, that too," Bryce added quickly. "They just... started with my junk."
"Now that's more like it," Chuck said, his tone approving.
If I had to go through it, so should everyone else! I hope they weren't too harsh on Sarah, though. Although I am now a seasoned SAS soldier and part of the finest regiment in the world, I will always consider myself a gentleman. It upsets me when men mistreat women, regardless of whether I know them.
Chuck looked back at Sarah. "What about you?" he asked, hoping to uncover the answer to his unspoken thoughts.
Sarah laughed awkwardly, then said, "They stripped me naked and a group of men spent hours telling me I was a lesbian. Got pretty graphic with it, too."
Chuck wasn't sure how to respond. He gave a nervous laugh, trying to read her tone. She laughed along with him, and Bryce joined in, breaking the tension.
When the laughter faded, Chuck said, "Ah, good show! As brutal as it is, it's nothing compared to what we'll face if the enemy catches us on ops. So a little shouting and name-calling? Not the worst way to spend a couple of days."
Sarah nodded. "Agreed."
"Well said, mate," Bryce added.
"You know what I'd love though?" Chuck said. "To get payback—interrogate one of them and watch them squirm."
"Too bloody right, mate!" Bryce exclaimed, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Me too," Sarah agreed.
Chuck sighed with theatrical effort. "Anyway, the reason I'm here boring you both is because I've drawn the short straw and get to show you around today."
Bryce and Sarah smirked sympathetically.
"I'm sure you don't need me," Chuck said, "but I'll give you the tour anyway. Want to follow me?"
They nodded and followed him to the Range Rover. The leather seats creaked as they settled in. The engine started with a low growl.
"First stop—the Regimental Quartermaster. Time to get you both kitted out. I assume the CO briefed you on our current counter-terror tasking after SERE?"
They nodded again.
"You've both done operational tours before?"
"Yep," Sarah said.
"Yeah," Bryce replied.
"What regiments?"
"Fusiliers," Bryce said.
"Royal Green Jackets," Sarah added. "You?"
"Grenadier Guards," Chuck said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror. "What roles?"
"Infantry," Bryce said.
"Medic," Sarah replied.
Chuck nodded. "Good. Alright, now I'm going to ask something that might seem a bit mad, but just bear with me. I don't mean to freak you out, and I'm not a psycho, but they expect this question in this environment, so I have to ask it. Have either of you ever killed before?"
Bryce answered without hesitation. "Yeah."
Chuck turned to Sarah. "And you?"
Her jaw tightened. "I don't see how that's any of your business."
Chuck didn't flinch. Eight years in the army had taught the veteran corporal worse than that attitude.
Feisty indeed.
"I get it," he said calmly, holding eye contact with her. "I didn't like being asked either. But you'll understand soon enough why I did. If you freeze in the moment—because you've never crossed that line—it won't just get you killed. It'll get us all killed. And no one in this unit will let that happen. For you to get us killed."
"Well said, mate," Bryce said, affording Chuck a nod of approval.
Sarah turned on Bryce with a glare, then looked back at Chuck. "Then no, in answer to your question," she snapped. "I haven't!"
Still, as Chuck had told her, Cole asked Chuck the same question on his first day too, and he soon learned to understand why Cole had asked it during his first days in the Regiment, and Sarah would too. When faced with the certain reality of having to take a life during her career in the SAS, Sarah would need her teammates to help her come to terms with that, and now that Chuck knew she had killed nobody before, he made an instant mental note to help her when that day came.
Because it would come.
And it WOULD NOT BE very pretty.
It would not be very pretty in any way.
Which is why Chuck—a seasoned three-year SAS veteran—said what he did.
To help her.
She just didn't realise it yet.
But she would...
Chuck didn't press. He nodded once and let the silence sit as he turned a corner on the base.
After a few moments, Chuck parked outside one of the low buildings.
"We're here. Let's get your gear," he said, cutting the engine and stepping out.
Bryce and Sarah hurried after him, their footsteps clapping against the stone floor as they followed him into the armoury.
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
Chuck, flanked by Sarah and Bryce, walked into the armoury.
Behind a waist-high counter stood the Squadron Quartermaster Sergeant carved out of brick—grey-stubbled jaw, no-nonsense eyes, arms crossed like twin slabs of concrete. His no.13 dress uniform was immaculate, the creases in his trousers sharp enough to slice the tension in the room.
"Gary," Chuck said, offering a firm handshake.
The man returned it without a smile. "Mobility Troop?"
Straight to the point, no messing around. That's how we always do things here, while on duty at least... Chuck thought to himself.
Chuck gave a curt nod. Then, turning his attention toward Sarah first, he introduced her. "Sarah Walker."
Gary's nod to her was brief, approving. The kind of gesture that carried more weight than words.
Then Bryce stepped forward with the confident bounce of a man who'd been in a few rooms like this before. "Bryce Larkin," he said, extending a hand.
Gary gave it one firm shake and turned his back without a word, approaching the gear already laid out, waiting on the counter.
Gear was standard issue for recruits. However, because Bryce and Sarah were now part of a specialised unit, they could procure their own equipment at the expense of the Regiment if they so chose. Because G Squadron was the chosen squadron assigned counter-terrorism duties in the United Kingdom, Bryce and Sarah's new kit comprised the requirements to carry out those duties. They were each supplied with an AC100 armoured helmet, an SF10 gas mask, standard army boots, body armour, flame retardant undergarments, a flame-retardant assault suit, fireproof knee and elbow pads, stun and tear gas grenades, an abseiling harness, a radio harness and a SIG Sauer P226 pistol and Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun.
"Everything here is yours," Gary said, finally breaking the silence. "Standard kit for counter-terror duty. You want something fancy? You requisition it. Otherwise, what you see is what you run with."
Chuck stepped forward, tapping a fingertip against the MP5. "Short barrel, nine-mil rounds. Designed for tight spaces. Doesn't punch through drywall, doesn't hit the hostage when you're aiming at the prick behind them."
His remark elicited a chuckle from Bryce and Sarah.
"Nevertheless, many of the lads opt for a longer barrel," Chuck said. "Though my advice is not to rush into one. Do it when it feels right, not before."
Sarah, who'd taken in and paid close attention to Chuck's wisdom, nodded and then moved to examine the P226, racking the slide, checking the weight. She didn't speak, but her eyes told the whole story—fascination. Confidence.
Bryce, meanwhile, turned to the MP5, taking it out of the case and into his hands like a sommelier inspecting a glass of wine. "Sleek," he muttered. "Too bad it doesn't take 5.56."
"You want a carbine, you earn it," Gary grunted. "Until then, you're clearing corners, not starting a war."
Chuck smirked. "That's his way of saying, 'Welcome to the Regiment.'"
Gary gave him a sidelong glance. "They'll need more than a welcome if they don't know how to pack their kit right."
Bryce raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He began loading his rucksack with practised hands. Everything had its place—spare mags, grenades, hydration pack, folded harness.
Sarah was even more methodical, arranging her gear in near-surgical symmetry. The kind of person who remembered the exact number of rounds she'd fired and hated losing count.
Chuck watched them work for a moment, arms crossed. They were behaving just like he did on his first day in the Regiment three years ago. Nervous. Eager. Unaware of how much weight that uniform really carried. Now he was the one watching the rookies, deciding if they had the grit behind the gloss.
His first mission with the Regiment was in Iraq in 2004 to carry out counter-insurgency operations. Therefore, the equipment he was assigned differed greatly from what Bryce and Sarah received from the quartermaster today. Despite this, Chuck had spent years customising his equipment to suit his specific preferences since his first day in 22 Reg.
When they were done, he jerked his chin toward the exit. "Grab your sacks. I'll walk you to your quarters, then we'll do the grand tour."
Bryce hefted his ruck, locking eyes with Sarah briefly as if to say, 'Well, this just got real.'
Sarah slung hers over her shoulder with one smooth movement. "Lead the way."
Chuck gave a half-smile. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
They filed out together, the armoury door swinging closed behind them with a heavy, echoing thunk—the kind of sound that felt permanent.
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
Chuck led Sarah and Bryce out of the barracks that G Squadron called home, their gear now stored in their respective on-base accommodations.
For two minutes, they walked together until entering another building and then along the corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing until they reached a door.
"Here is the best place on the base," a mischievous grin accompanied Chuck's declaration as he looked behind him, "the cafeteria."
His newest teammates smiled at him.
As Sarah, Bryce, and Chuck entered the military cafeteria, they heard a clang of utensils and the chatter of soldiers filled the air.
Chuck's eyes darted around the room, noting everyone inside the facility.
There were around two dozen people present in the large dining area.
As Chuck looked around, he recognised several administrative and senior military figures besides the many members of his squadron and troop.
Chuck finished his observations and led Sarah and Bryce further into the cafeteria when three team members approached them.
"Hello, Chuck," Sergeant Cole Barker—Chuck's best friend—cheerfully greeted him.
Chuck's closest bond elicited an affectionate grin from him. He replied to Cole with a soft-spoken, "Hi, Cole."
"We were wondering where you were at, you bastard. But now we know," said a Scottish SAS trooper in a deep Glaswegian accent, his friendly gaze belying his sturdy demeanour. His eyes flicked from Chuck to the rookies standing behind him, sizing them up as his glance met them.
Chuck gave a brief nod and chuckled at the Scot's remark. "Yeah. Wallace put me on babysitting duties. Heh."
A towering English SAS trooper then announced himself with a joke, "Better you than me, fella."
Chuck nodded, finding one of his closest friend's comments amusing.
Stepping to the side, Chuck let his friends take centre stage and introduce themselves to their new teammates.
"Cole Barker," Cole said with a warm smile as he stepped forward and shook Sarah's hand.
"Sarah Walker," she replied, and Cole nodded as he shook Bryce's hand.
"Bryce Larkin," Bryce replied, and Cole nodded at him.
"John Murray," the Scottish SAS trooper said as he shook Bryce's hand, followed by Sarah's, and they shared a warm glance.
"Daniel Thomas," the imposing English trooper said as he shook Bryce and Sarah's hands.
"Otherwise known as Big Dan," Chuck quipped.
"Yeah, 'cause of the size of the bastard!" a friendly English SAS trooper said as he approached the small group and introduced himself, shaking the rookies' hands. "Jamie Hughes."
"And you're next, you bastard!" Chuck's sudden statement while pointing at Jamie caused everyone to burst out laughing, while Jamie formed a fixed frown.
"Huh, I'm next for what, mate?" Jamie asked, bewildered.
"For giving the rookies the tour around the base, fella!" Big Dan said.
The towering SAS soldier earned multiple points of approval from Chuck as he pointed at him. "Bingo," he replied, grinning.
"You can get to fuck, mate!" Jamie said while chuckling and shaking his head at Chuck. "I'm not gonna be showing anyone around the base, mate, not even if Senor Rupertessa (Captain Wallace) commands it!" he said through fits of laughter.
"Jamie, he's behind you right now," Cole Barker suddenly said, devoid of any sinister undertones.
Jamie's laughter ceased abruptly, and he squinted his eyes, but he hesitated to turn around and face whatever was behind him.
"He's winding me up, isn't he?!" Jamie asked, struggling to keep a straight face as he looked at the group of soldiers, his laughter barely contained.
Jamie's heart sank as he watched each person in front of him shake their heads in unison.
And as soon as the newbies shook their heads, his friendly demeanour disappeared, and everyone noticed how anxious he became.
With trepidation, Jamie slowly began to turn and face whatever was behind him.
A few seconds later, once Jamie had fully turned round, the group now behind him suddenly burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.
With a quick movement, Jamie snapped back around to face his scheming teammates, shouting in anger, "You horrible cunts! I just proper shit meself then!"
The sound of raucous laughter filled the air as Jamie's anger towards them hit its mark, prompting the newbie Bryce to look at Cole with admiration, shouting, "You bloody legend!"
Cole Barker's sadistic chuckles only grew louder as he revelled in his deeds.
Big Dan, meanwhile, appeared awestruck. "You got him good there, Cole, fella. I must admit, I'm very impressed 'cause it's usually me doing the winding up first thing of the morning."
"And the afternoon," Chuck abruptly interjected, his mind replaying every time he'd seen Big Dan wind up someone since he met the big Geordie a few years ago.
"Yeah, and the fucking evening as well!" Jamie muttered under his breath, shaking his head, but he soon chuckled again.
"I heard that one, fella!" Big Dan said, pointing at Jamie.
"You can hear this one as well, mate!" Jamie said, taunting Big Dan by sticking two fingers up towards him in an insulting gesture.
"Ooh! Touchy!" Big Dan said as a laugh of approval came from him.
The sound of laughter swelled again, causing several team members, including the newcomers, to shake their heads to stifle their amusement.
John Murray, staring intently at Jamie, continued the conversation, saying, "Och! You should have seen yer face."
"Yeah, mate," Jamie said, chuckling away, "it looked like your sister's after a night with me!"
"He's really touchy today, isn't he?!" a snort accompanied Big Dan's reply.
"So would you be, mate, if you'd been out on the piss last night with that gobshite!" Jamie laughed, nodding over at John Murray as he spoke.
"Ya wee tosser!" the Scot said back, still laughing himself.
"How come I didn't get an invite?" Big Dan asked.
"'cause no one likes you," Chuck said, smirking as he spoke.
A series of winces followed Chuck's remark, including one from Big Dan, who turned to look at Chuck and exclaimed, "Ooh! Fucking hell! What's in everyone's water this morning?"
The Geordie's latest comment caused the team to share laughter again, with Cole's subsequent remark only amplifying the amusement when he said, "I don't know, Dan, but it's some bad stuff because you're quieter than you've ever been!"
"I think I'm going back to the Paras if this is the treatment I get from my own teammates!" Big Dan joked.
"No one wants you back there either, mate!" Jamie laughed.
Jamie's comment elicited a roar of laughter from the rest of the group.
"Fucking hell! Then I may as well be done with it, do you all a favour, and kill meself!" As he shouted back, Big Dan's face twisted in amusement, clear for all to see.
The group's laughter crescendoed as Big Dan's witty reply hit its mark, which they shared for a moment until they calmed.
Changing the topic, Jamie turned to face Chuck. "Mate, I came to your room in the barracks this morning, but you hadn't arrived yet."
Chuck nodded, his eyes filled with warmth as he gazed at one of his closest friends. "Yeah," he said as a smirk escaped. "I had a bit of a late one myself."
"No surprises there," Big Dan muttered, barely audible.
The sound of muted laughter filled the air for a moment as Chuck pointed in contempt at Big Dan.
"So, what did you get up to, Chuck? On the lash like Jamie and me?" John Murray asked with a smirk.
Chuck looked to the Scot to respond, but Cole Barker's voice cut through the silence. "Playing Call of Duty 4 all night. That's what he was doing."
As soon as the statement was made, the team shared ironic scoffs, arguing amongst themselves.
Jamie Hughes was the only one to respond coherently. "How would you know that?"
"Because he was playing it with me!" Chuck interjected.
The scoffs continued while John Murray shot a glance at Chuck. "Come on, fella. I've known you since our selection together. There's no way you are playing games all night. Maybe for a wee bit, but nae anything more than that."
"And right you are, John, fella," Big Dan said, nodding. "He and Cole engaging in orgies with Sophie and whoever else they have around, maybe, but sitting in front of a TV to sweat it out all night playing games and eating cheese puffs? That's a bit of a stretch, even by my large standards!"
Big Dan's joke once again sparked immediate, boisterous laughter for a long moment, causing Chuck to narrow his eyes and point at Big Dan in a warning. "Leave Sophie out of this!"
"He'd better!" Cole said, his jaw set in determination.
"See what I mean?" Big Dan said, smirking while glancing around at his teammates.
"Well, lads, you're all mistaken anyway, because that's what we did," Chuck said.
Scoffs broke out again until Cole boisterously declared, "But maybe we went out and got lashed afterwards!"
"Oh, so the truth's coming out, Cole, is it?" Jamie said instantly.
"I'm surprised they're both standing if they went out and got lashed last night," Bryce offered, eager to mix with his new teammates.
Bryce's contribution was well-received by some of the team, who turned to look at him and offered immediate gestures of approval.
However, all eyes were on Big Dan as he interrupted the exchange and spoke up. "Fellas, fellas! Are we seriously believing their lies? "
Big Dan then pointed between Chuck and Cole, his voice brimming with confidence as he continued, "They were engaging in more sinister activities! I'm telling you right now they were at Cole's place swinging aka having sex with god knows who else!"
Chuck and Cole snorted along with the rest of the team, unable to contain their laughter.
"Aye, though I think Dan has a point. Those two spend way too much time together," John Murray said.
"They do, but why are you so surprised?" Jamie asked. "Chuck's going to be his best man."
Chuck and Cole were quick to endorse Jamie Hughes, but Big Dan interjected before they could elaborate, "When Cole gets the bottle to set a date for his wedding!"
"Any more of that," Cole said, changing his pointing of approval at Jamie, to pointing in scorn at Big Dan instead, "And you're off the invite list."
Grinning smugly, Big Dan boasted, "I'll just get Chuck to put me on his invitation list to it instead, fella."
"I'd rather offer the Taliban an invitation than you, Dan!" Chuck said instantly without hesitation.
The group burst into laughter as Cole switched his pointing to Chuck in approval. "That's why he's my best man, partner in crime, and why I'd take a bullet meant for him before I let anyone hurt him! And anyone who did, I'd not stop until I settled the score!"
"He's marrying the wrong person!" Jamie laughed strongly. "It should be Chuck and Cole marrying each other! Not Cole and Sophie!"
Jamie's joke caused a ripple of laughter to spread through the area where the teammates stood, with Jamie's deep belly laughs leading the way.
Chuck turned to look at Jamie. "Jealous are we?"
"Of course he is!" Cole said, laughing zealously. "Because he's got no mates!"
The teammates laughed on, but Sarah and Bryce—particularly Sarah since she was the only woman—felt uncomfortable with the exchanges because they were new to the team. The others had already formed a tight-knit group, and it was apparent in how they talked with each other.
After a moment, Chuck asked, "So, where's the last piece of our team at then?"
"He's preparing something for the rookies, fella," Big Dan said without delay.
The cafeteria seemed to fall silent as all eyes diverted to Big Dan.
Sarah and Bryce's unease was palpable, making the atmosphere suddenly very tense.
"What's he planning?" Bryce asked, his voice shaky with nerves.
As he scanned his teammates, Big Dan's eyes crinkled with amusement, lingering on the rookies before he spoke. "He's preparing to have you and Sarah sing in front of the entire squadron, fella, as part of your introductions."
Sarah and Bryce's faces fell to the floor in sync with Big Dan's revelation, overcome with embarrassment.
However, laughter erupted amongst the remaining teammates, though on seeing just how nervous Bryce and Sarah—but mostly Sarah—now was, Chuck composed himself and said, "He's winding you both up."
"Now why would I ever do a thing such as that, fella?" Big Dan asked with a straight face.
"Because you're a sadist," Cole said.
"Amen to that, mate!" Jamie said, chuckling.
Big Dan's cruel smirk showed his approval of their comments.
"So, where's Chris?" Chuck asked. "And Dan's not allowed to answer."
"He's in Ops Room Charlie, fella," John Murray said. "We've all just come from there."
Big Dan nodded. "There's a live op right now, so we entertained ourselves seeing them sweat it out for a little while."
Chuck glanced at Big Dan. "Who is it?"
"D Squadron, Mobility troop, in Afghan, mate," Jamie answered instead.
Chuck nodded.
"Doesn't one of their lot owe you something, Chuck?" Cole asked.
Chuck, along with the rest of his teammates, turned to query Cole's question.
Raising a hand to rest on his chin, Chuck's brows narrowed as he entered brief contemplation. Soon nodding, Chuck said, "You're right, Cole! One of them does! I lent Ray Jones something, and he still hasn't given me it back, the bastard!"
Some of Chuck's teammates' brows quirked at the revelation until Jamie said, "You'd better hope he doesn't buy it out there before he gives you back whatever he owes you, mate."
"He could always get it back anyway, fella," Big Dan said.
"Yeah, before Blue Team does!" John Murray added.
Chuck shuddered at the mention of Blue Team. "I've already turned queasy at the thought of Blue Team getting their measly hands on my property!" Chuck said half-jokingly, half-serious.
Laughter erupted until Jamie disturbed it when he asked, "I wonder what Chuck lent him then?"
"I don't know, fella," Big Dan said. "Because with Chuck, I wouldn't be surprised because it could be anything!"
Chuckles persisted as John Murray quickly suggested, "It was a sex toy, fella!"
"At least he has sex toys, fella, unlike you!" Big Dan rebuked back without delay.
John Murray's comment caused a notable increase in the volume of laughter, which was further amplified by Big Dan's witty trademark instant retort.
Once the laughter died down a bit, Jamie got out his words through chuckles. "Yeah, but he only has those sex toys because Cole lent them to him!"
As Jamie's latest joke unfolded, it had a far-reaching impact, with Chuck and Cole shaking their heads in disbelief and amusement, besides sharing the laughter of their teammates.
Chuck, soon changed his glance to Sarah and Bryce. "You've only known the team for ten minutes, and they've all exposed their true selves already."
Cole, now pointing at Bryce—who had been in fits of laughter during most of the entire exchange since the introductions—rowdily said, "He loves it already!"
Bryce nodded emphatically, causing additional chuckles from amongst his new teammates.
"Right then," Chuck said, composing himself. "I'll take Sarah and Bryce to the ops room for a brief sit-in, then I'd better be off and show them some additional things before I run out of time."
"In a bit," Big Dan said.
"Catch you soon, Chuck," Cole said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with fondness.
The teammates shared a last glance before parting ways, Chuck leading the way out of the cafeteria with Sarah and Bryce in tow.
The three teammates walked in silence for a few minutes until Chuck came to a stop.
"Here we are," Chuck said, turning to Sarah and Bryce, who'd halted just behind him. "One of our ops rooms."
Sarah and Bryce nodded.
"Let's check out what's going on today," Chuck said as he strode into the ops room, with Sarah and Bryce following behind.
Inside Ops Room Charlie, the hum of machinery and the glow of computer screens greeted the three teammates. The room was a flurry of activity, as officers and technicians huddled around the monitors and TVs, analysing the live footage of the mission that Mobility Troop, D Squadron was undertaking. Among the dozen military personnel within the Ops Room was Red Team's team leader, Staff Sergeant Chris MacDonald.
Chuck, leaning behind himself, nodded Sarah and Bryce over towards their team leader, then said, "Our team leader. Chris MacDonald."
Sarah and Bryce exchanged a nod with Chuck before turning to face their team leader.
As soon as Chris noticed them, he gave a simple nod to acknowledge their presence, then returned to his activities.
They both realised his welcome was much less receptive than Cole, Dan, Jamie, and John had given Sarah and Bryce minutes before.
Which, to Chuck, was no surprise...
"Let's see what's going down then," Chuck said, shifting his focus to the monitors.
Sarah and Bryce did the same.
For a few minutes, the three teammates observed the screens, observing the live operation of their sister Mobility Troop and sister squadron.
"It looks like we came just in time," Chuck broke their silence, his glance fixated on one specific screen as a firefight erupted between his comrades in the engagement and a Taliban force in the area of operation.
"That looks juicy, mate!" Bryce blurted, looking between Chuck and the screens. "I can't wait to be part of it myself when we get ourselves into something that goes down!"
Chuck, detecting the excitement in the tone of his newest teammate, suppressed laughter and nodded in approval.
However, he soon stepped to Sarah's side, intent on watching how they both reacted to the unfolding military engagement.
From his vantage point, Chuck could now see both Sarah and Bryce, as well as the engagement taking place.
He observed as Bryce's excitement grew with each passing moment.
But, for Sarah, her reaction to what she was watching was less than enthusiastic.
Chuck could sense her unease over the escalating intensity of the operation, now a full-on firefight with air support called in by their sister troop.
After a few minutes of intentional idleness, Chuck concluded that his newest teammates had mixed reactions to the unfolding operation. Despite passing time, his conclusion remained unchanged from his initial observations at the start of the engagement.
For Bryce, the sheer excitement emanating from Bryce's persona was at extreme levels. To Chuck, that spelt out only one thing: a psycho...
Chuck's conclusion was concerning, but not unexpected, given his eight years of experience in the military, where he had encountered many comrades who shared Bryce's eagerness to fight and kill the enemy. However, it was essential to keep that aggression in check, channelling it just enough to accomplish the task at hand—never beyond that.
Meanwhile, Chuck concluded that Sarah's reaction was because of the overwhelming intensity of the SAS operation, as well as her disgust with the barbarity of the firefight.
I can relate to her reaction to this. I had always admired my dad and grandad's military service, and following their footsteps by joining the army was always my greatest aspiration. However, the moment of first contact on my deployment with the Guards in Iraq will stay with me forever. I remember the confusion, the anarchy, and the sound of gunshots ringing out everywhere… It was the most intense and bloody experience of my life! The delayed shock afterwards, puking my guts everywhere. It wasn't pretty... It's why I asked her in the car if she'd killed before. Some people, like Bryce, are just made for this shit, which is why I can't knock him. In fact, in the eight years I've been in the military now, I've even become seasoned and almost immune to the barbarity of the job myself and have probably reached the point that I too love the intense ops that we get sent on... Oh, how times have changed since the night I cried myself to sleep after my encounter with the Guards and couldn't bear to look at my hands, knowing what they had done… But, as they say, time heals many wounds and scars, and so do the most amazing friends and brothers in arms. It certainly helped heal mine…
As Chuck watched on, Bryce turned towards him, his face still lit up with excitement.
Chuck simply nodded at him.
Bryce then shifted his gaze towards Sarah, who remained fixated on the screen.
The intensity of the operation had left its mark on her, clear from the shock etched on her features.
Bryce picked up on Sarah's unease. "Come on, Sarah! Surely this is exciting? It's why we joined!"
"It's not why I joined," Sarah said, her tone unsettled, her glance still locked onto a specific screen now showing deceased bodies.
Bryce scoffed, shook his head, and suppressed laughter as he caught Chuck's glance.
"It's better to not enjoy it than to enjoy it too much," Chuck cautioned.
However, Bryce continued to scoff. "Come on, mate! It's why all of us signed up! To fight and scrap!"
"That's not what I signed up for at all!" Chuck sharply rebuked, shaking his head, Bryce's comment having set off frustration for the veteran corporal. "I signed up for comradeship, for brotherhood. To be part of an organisation where hundreds of thousands of people share the same united goal and mission, and support each other through thick and thin. That's why I signed up, mate, not for killing! Although I have strong reservations about taking a life, I recognise that eliminating terrorists and others seeking to harm us is necessary to ensure the safety of others. It's a price you pay to be standing here right now, and I accept that. I've never once lost sleep for killing a terrorist, but it's nasty and barbaric business simultaneously and if you don't get it under control, it will eat at and destroy you. Half the bloody army has PTSD, mate. It's a serious issue and nobody should be eager and love it unless you want to end up six feet under like all those who have fallen before you."
Nodding, Sarah broke from looking at the screens, turned to look at Chuck, and said, "I agree with Chuck. Like you, I didn't enlist to cause harm or take lives. It was a sense of duty that led me to sign up... To serve and try to protect my country, and the innocent people part of it."
Chuck gave several emphatic nods of agreement. "Exactly. Duty and brotherhood over violence. Violence is just a consequence of what we do. And as long as we have each other, we'll always come through it."
As Sarah maintained eye contact with Chuck, a smile spread across her face. "I couldn't agree more with you. And you were right... About what you said in the car," she said but paused as she drew in a gulp. "I'm sorry for how I reacted to what you said because I already now understand how it's gonna be here and why you asked us that question... To prepare us."
Chuck nodded, his eyes holding against Sarah's in a warm exchange that lingered. "Yeah..." he said, drawing off his words.
"I get that," Bryce said. "Count me in for all of that, too. I just enjoy a good scrap as well!"
Chuck finally broke Sarah's gaze, turned to look at Bryce, suppressed laughter, and said, "You'll get on just fine with a lot of the lads here because most of them do as well."
Bryce nodded, sharing the muted laughter with Chuck.
After a moment, Chuck sighed to compose himself, then said, "Ok, let's be off for the last part of the tour then..."
Sarah and Bryce nodded in agreement, the smell of stale coffee lingering in the ops room as they left and made their way to Chuck's red Range Rover.
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
Chuck departed the Range Rover with Bryce and Sarah outside a facility known as the Killing House and moved to link up.
He was about to describe the training facility, but his attention instantaneously focused on Bryce, who seemed visibly agitated and fidgety, like he urgently needed to use the restroom.
After a moment, Bryce said with embarrassment, "Sorry about this, but I could really use the bathroom!"
Chuck snorted multiple times in succession, then let out a suppressed chuckle.
His humour caused Sarah to have to close her mouth tight shut as she fought to curb any amusement, but she was failing greatly at the task.
Once he regained his composure, Chuck said, "You're extremely lucky about two things. First, you're lucky it's me giving the tour and not any of the other lads because they would never let you live this down whereas I won't mention it to anyone 'cos I'm not a sadist. Second, there's a toilet inside the facility. Go in and straight down the hallway. There's a bathroom right by the stairs on the ground floor."
Bryce's eyes lit up. "Cheers, mate!" he said, then quickly turned and bolted inside the training facility.
Chuck and Sarah watched on as Bryce raced into the Killing House towards the bathroom.
Bryce's emergency caused Chuck to erupt in laughter again, this time shared by Sarah, as the new teammates turned to face each other.
"I think I can safely say this is the first time someone needing the loo has ever interrupted an induction here!" Chuck said, finding the situation absolutely hilarious.
Sarah snorted in immediate reply, then said, "I'm sure."
The new teammates shared the amusement at Bryce's misfortunes for a moment more, then calmed.
"So, now that we're alone for the time being, I suppose you will try to kill me?" Chuck asked.
Sarah narrowed her glance right at Chuck. "Why would I do that?"
Chuck pushed a regretful smile, which showed no teeth. "Because I've already pissed you off with what I said when you first got in the car."
Sarah mirrored Chuck's actions with an understanding smile. "I'm not pissed off now. The operation in the ops room was an immediate awakening for me. You were right in what you said."
Chuck's smile, constrained in nature, transformed into a genuine expression bearing full teeth. "I'm a very sensitive guy really, I can assure you. But the regiment demands a certain standard and way to behave and the lads would have held me to account had I not performed the introduction in the way it's expected in this place."
Sarah nodded, again mirroring Chuck's gestures as a full smile took shape. "It's ok. I know you're a nice guy. You don't need to convince me of that. And having met some of the other guys, I'm also sure that had they given the induction, it would have been much different and even more no-nonsense in nature."
"How do you know I'm a nice guy?" he asked, still grinning.
Sarah locked eyes with Chuck. "Because of everything you said in the ops room. And how you said it. That you didn't sign up to hurt people, rather, you signed up because you want to help others. Also, I know it because of the friendliness you have shown to us both, despite drawing the short straw when I'm sure you would much rather be doing something else."
"Not at all," Chuck said with a grin. "Well, truth be told, I was frustrated for the brief part of a few seconds when lumped with the task. But then I remembered the warm reception I received from Cole when I first joined, and I knew I owed it to you both to give that same gesture back."
Sarah smiled back. "Well, you have done that."
Chuck suppressed a brief laugh, which transformed into a full grin post-action.
"And besides..." Sarah said but paused briefly as the new teammates renewed their eye contact, "Most guys when I'm alone with them, the last thing they're thinking is she's going to kill me. So, you're already different than usual."
Chuck crossed his arms, still holding the warm gaze of his new comrade. "Why? What do they usually do?"
Sarah rolled her eyes, suspecting Chuck to have known the answer already, though his expression was showing no malice and that he genuinely was naive. Assuming it was a mix of both, she said, "They usually try to get my number."
"Now that you mention it…" Chuck said as amusement danced in his eyes. "What's your number?"
Sarah tried her best not to smile, failing somewhat at the task but succeeding in staying mute.
"Oh, well!" Chuck said with a grin after a moment of Sarah's silence, "I had to try, not that I ever had a chance."
Sarah snorted, a clear sign she was struggling to suppress her natural warmth and approachability as she tried to keep herself reserved to the advances—even if humorously intended—of a man.
"Though to be honest, I'm that clumsy I'd probably have lost the number even if I had struck lucky," Chuck joked.
Sarah, feeling an immediate liking to the approachable and friendly guy in front of her, broke her silence, "If I wanted you to have my number, I'd ensure you got it safely, and that you called."
"Wow, that's unique," Chuck said with a grin.
Sarah broke their gaze for a moment, almost as if to eye up Chuck's physique, then met his eye again. "I get what I want and don't stop until I do."
"Of course," Chuck said with an immediate nod. "That's why you're here."
Sarah emitted a cordial smile. "You must too. Because you're here also."
"I kinda stumbled my way into it," Chuck said, suppressing a laugh.
Sarah held a serious glance straight into Chuck's orbs. "I doubt that. I already know you're here exclusively on merit and determination. The reason I know is because I know from my own experience it's impossible to fluke."
The new comrades shared a smile of understanding, silently recognising the commitment and dedication they had each undertaken to be able to stand together where they now both were as equals.
After a moment, Chuck said, "Anyway, I used all of my luck getting here. Pulling someone so breathtaking…that's a bridge too far."
"How do you know until you try?" Sarah asked with a smile.
Chuck grinned. "I did. You went mute."
"You weren't really trying," Sarah said as they locked eyes again. "There was no conviction behind it."
Chuck narrowed his glance, registering that she was treating the conversation seriously. "I'd genuinely have a chance?"
Sarah fell silent once more, her gaze unwavering as she gave a sly shrug of her shoulder, her expressions matching her actions allowing him to come to his own interpretation.
Chuck grinned in reply, feeling mesmerised by her already.
Sarah let the exchange simmer for a moment, wholly enjoying the conversation that had taken place, then said, "If you stay nice to me, I might need your number anyway so you can show me around again."
"No thanks," Chuck said instantly, with a teasing grin. "Once was enough."
In shock, Sarah's mouth flew open wide as she stared Chuck out in complete disbelief.
"Who am I kidding?" Chuck said the briefest of seconds later. "I lasted two seconds with my wind up! If you chose me for the honour, I'd not disappoint."
Sarah, now realising he was joking, composed herself, then did some attacking of her own. "My offers are a one-time thing."
"And so they should be!" Chuck said with a smile. "While I see a scenario where I might need to give someone another chance, I see no scenario where you need to! So maybe now is the time for proper introductions, now that we know each other a little better."
Sarah narrowed one eye, her curiosity piqued as she tried to anticipate where Chuck was leading them.
With a grin, Chuck stepped forward and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Chuck. I'm an idiot who always ruins everything good by putting my foot in it and talking way too much."
Sarah, wholly amused by her new teammate's goofiness and sheer friendliness, shone a smile and stepped to shake Chuck's hand, their hands brushing over each other as they connected. "Hi, I'm Sarah. I always end up giving someone a second chance who shouldn't get one, but only if they're nice and have a great smile."
Chuck suppressed an immediate laugh at Sarah's response.
A hint of a wistful smile graced her lips in reply, their hands lingering together for a moment, until Bryce emerged in view, forcing the teammates to reluctantly release their grasp, a pinch of regret at the loss of the connection in their eyes.
When Bryce stopped in their proximity, Chuck and Sarah took a last moment to compose themselves after their exchange, then Chuck said, "Ok, then let's finish the final parts of the tour."
Sarah and Bryce nodded, then followed Chuck inside the Killing House as he guided them around the cutting-edge training facility detailing the resources available. The Killing House was where the SAS practised hostage rescue and close-quarter battle training. The facility trained SAS operatives to enter a room with speed, precision, and accuracy in identifying and shooting any potential threats. For new recruits who had never killed before, the building was a crucial asset for training and preparation. It helped prevent them from freezing from pulling the trigger for a split second too long, which could have drastic consequences. It was a two-storey building that could be customised and had four rooms on each level. The building resembled a traditional structure, complete with furnishings, artwork, bathroom facilities, and even televisions. And was equipped with rubber-coated walls to absorb live ammunition, extractor fans to remove fumes, and cameras in every room to record and assess the action. The Killing House was a top-rated facility, with a reputation for producing the best soldiers. Throughout the years, the facility had the honour of hosting many high-profile individuals, such as Prince Charles, Diana, Princess of Wales, and Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.
America's Delta Force was so impressed with how successful the Killing House was; they adopted and incorporated it into their training facilities. Delta Force, by no coincidence, first formed when a U.S. Green Beret served as an exchange officer with 22 Reg and exposed the U.S. Army's vulnerability to not having a similar SAS-type unit in their army.
After their visit to the Killing House, Chuck took Sarah and Bryce to a storage area where a part of a Boeing 747 aircraft was kept. The SAS made use of a portion of the Boeing 747 to create a realistic training environment for storming aircraft.
Chuck didn't guide them through the locations, since they would do later it within the next few days. Chuck had just visited the sites as he briefly explained the training facilities' features to his newest teammates.
Once the introduction was over, Chuck took his new teammates to their base lodgings.
Afterwards, Chuck headed to meet up with his friends for some social activity, unable to shake his friendly exchanges with Sarah lingering in his mind before Sarah and Bryce were to be officially introduced to Chuck and the rest of his troop at 11:00 hours.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope the conversations, thought processes and explanations in the opening chapter have provided enough justification for why Chuck is a special forces soldier. Chuck's canon characteristics remain intact, but he exudes a newfound confidence that stems from both his environment and the unwavering trust and belief of thousands of people he encountered and worked with since joining the military. For Chuck, violence is a last resort, but he will not hesitate to use it to protect his safety, his friends, and the innocent people he has pledged to defend from the enemy. Chuck never requests to be deployed to specific locations, while the antagonists deliberately position themselves in those areas, seeking to hurt the people of his nation, leading Chuck and his colleagues to respond. Although Chuck Bartowski's character will evolve in later chapters, his fundamental core traits are already on display in the opening chapter through his dialogue, actions, etc.
NEXT CHAPTER: Sarah (with some of her background disclosed) and Bryce's formal introductions to Red Team, Mobility Troop, G Squadron, along with their first day.
FOOTNOTES: So then. Does anyone wish to share this Charah military story with me? I'm eager to hear. I value your opinion and would appreciate it if you could leave a review. Even if you are reading this in 2025. I love reading your comments :)