Chapter Text
Arthur grunted as the heli jolted, stirring him from a nap that he'd desperately needed. He glanced to the side, taking note that they'd just touched down on the tarmac.
His eyes slid up to meet the Russian pilot, who was watching him in amusement. "Nice nap, my friend?" He asked to which the man just grumbled in reply, "Slept like a baby, Nikolai."
He hopped out onto the solid ground, eyes already meeting Laswell's. He grabbed his duffel, padding over to greet the older woman. She inclined her head for him to follow.
"How was the fly, Arthur?" She asked as she led him to the briefing room. "Just peachy keen, Laswell. Fell asleep for an hour or two. Maybe more." Arthur grunted.
Laswell nodded, "Now you won't be falling asleep while meeting your new team. Make an impression, Harpy. Your new captain is doubting you at you callsign." "Understandable. Not many do their research."
—
As he stepped into the briefing room, he took in the appearences of the group of men. The first one was the captain. Commanding presence, bucket hat, fatherly face with blue orbs.
Definitely the kind of man that screams fishing trips.
Next was a man with a wide grin and a mohawk. He seemed like a joker. A man easy to get along with. A talker. He was waving enthusiastically. Also blue eyes. More baby blue than blue eyes Price held.
Then a darker man with gentle brown eyes, he offered an inclined head. The laid back one, then, Arthur assumed.
Last but certainly not least, his eyes darted to the man brooding in the corner like a kicked puppy. Skull mask. This was supposed to be their resident badass.
What did Laswell tell him his name was?
Simon Riley. A lieutenant just the same. Callsign Ghost, if Arthur remembered correctly.
He was snapped out of his assessment of the men when Laswell began speaking. "Well, boys, this is Lieutenant Art—" "Harpy, Kate. I assume the captain has gone over my file. Knows my name. His boys have to earn it." Arthur said stiffly, his eyes narrowed.
Laswell nodded, "This is Lieutenant Harpy Eagle. Harpy for short. He's bunking up with you all. Permanently."
"Harpy, huh? The fuck earned ye that callsign? Ye fly over your enemies or somethin'?" Came the loud Scottish accent, blurting, basically.
"That's a secret as of now," He paused, raising a brow, "John MacTavish. Call me Soap." He pitched in and Arthur nodded.
"That's a callsign to truly talk about." He snorted under his breath before getting smacked by Laswell.
Sighing, Arthur glanced at the other seargent. "Kyle Garrick. Gaz?" He asks, to which he earns a nod, "Yep, that's me."
Arthur glanced at Laswell and then back to Gaz. "She speaks highly of you." He says, as if he's acknowledging skill.
Then a voice speaks up, low, gravelly. A Mancunian accent, he noted, turning his head to the source. "Why do you keep your name under lock 'nd key 'til we've 'earned' it?"
Ah. Ghost.
"That is because I want to get to know the people I'm working with before they get to know me, Lieutenant." Arthur replied. "Why the mask?"
Ghost tilted his head. "Same reason as yours. To hide my face." Arthur just shook his head. "Brooding. Sarcastic, a little bit of an asshole. What's the cherry on top?"
Soap snorted, "Run if he starts makin' a feckin' joke." He grumbled, "They're scary."
Ghost perked slightly. "What has two legs an' bleeds?" Arthur glanced at Ghost again, raising a brow that looked questioning. "Half a dog." He replied in unison with the other Lieutenant.
Silence, except Soap cursing. Finally, Price sighs. "Now not only is it two lieutenants, both wearing masks, might I add. But they have the same mindset. Laswell, what did you put me up to?"
"John, Harpy is complicated, even for me. But he's a great soldier once you give him the chance." Laswell sighed. "Men, settle down, time for mission details."
Arthur glanced over before taking a seat, eyes up front as Laswell began walking them through. "We have come to believe that our... old alliances haven't disbanded as we thought the have."
Arthur tilted his head. He'd heard about this. Different base, but he had the same general. "Thought Price puttin' a bullet through Daddy Dearest's head woulda had him cowerin'. After all, lapdogs are naturally lost without their owners." The words had a sneer in them.
Laswell nodded. "Graves didn't stop as we thought he did. Just went into hiding. He's still a war criminal. And he's doing bigger havoc than Makarov was."
"As of right now, our target's last know area was Mexico. Alejandro called this in at 0800 hours. Apparently he's trying to make a bigger namesake for himself. Just not aa good one." She nodded to the screen, a video playing on it.
"Killin' Mexicans. Don't know if it's grudging against us, or Alejandro." Price was the one speaking now. "We know Alejandro got a new base, the one Graves last took over was useless after the fighting,"
"But these were clearly friends of Alejandro. It seems he's searching for that base. His plan is to find it, send a few men in, get details, and kill." Laswell finished. "Your job is to make sure that doesn't happen."
Price nodded, "Ghost, you're our eyes and ears. Soap, Gaz, you're with me. Harpy. Do whatever it is you do best." Arthur tilted his head, "Then I'll go after the lapdog that lost his owner." He replied.
Price open his mouth to retort against that, but Laswell spoke up, "He knows what he's doing. He's always sent after the commanders, captains, so on, so forth, Price."
The older man sighed wearily. "Very well, Harpy goes after Graves. This is shoot on sight. I want Graves back in one piece."
"Be careful, Harpy, Graves uses just about anything he can to ensure he gets away, pulled a fuckin' tank on me 'n' Rudy once." Soap warned.
Arthur glances at Soap, "Well, if he tries to use his dick, I'll have to drag him back in cuffs 'nd nothin' where 'is balls should have been. He'll be neutered." He quips, earning a laugh of surprise from the Scotsman.
"Enough chitter chatter, get ready, we move out in ten." Price said.
Arthur immediately stood and strode out, eyes darting down to the key in his palm. He silently thanked Laswell for convincing Price for his own private quarters.
He tugged off his casual wear, pulling on more professional black clothing. He tugged his vest on. His thigh holster, slipping his handgun into the hostler.
He tightened his belt through the hoops of his tactical pants, his knife already in the sheathe. He does a double take over his pockets, making sure he has more than enough mags.
Arthur grabs his DR-H-Versatile assault rifle before padding out to the tarmac. Aside from Price, who's talking to Nikolai. He slips inside the cab of the MH-6 Little Bird, waiting for the rest of the team.
Shortly after, everyone was cramped inside and Nikolai took up. Arthur had grown restless, his leg bouncing. He preferred moving around over sitting on his ass.
"Nervous?" He heard the asking voice from his left. Gaz. "No, Never." He rumbled.
—
They landed approximately three hours later. Definitely in America. The sun was dipping below the horizon. "We stay in America for the night. Tomorrow morning, Alejandro and Rodolfo will come get us." Price informed.
Arthur nodded, grunting out "Acknowledged," in reply as he slid out of the heli. They approached a motel, and Arthur had gotten into a minor argument with some guy because he asked where he could find the loo.
"Bathroom." The man had corrected. "Loo."Arthur argued. A pause, "Bathroom." The American insisted. Finally, Arthur got annoyed, "Where the fuck can I take a piss, dickwad?"
The man pointed to the back and Arthur trudged to the back, finding the men's restroom, practically yanking the door open. He dealt his business and stormed back, where the team was.
"There's only three rooms available. Soap, Gaz, you can share. Ghost, Harpy. I want my own room." Arthur sighed at Price's words. "Greedy bastard."
He snatched a key from Price and took off, padding up the steps of the stairs before coming to a hallway. He stalked down towards where he assumed the room would be.
"Fuck.. twenty-two." He mumbled to himself, glancing around as he came to a stop. Bingo
Room number twenty-two sat at the end of that side of the hall. He unlocked the door and shoved it open. a couch, tv, kitchenette. Bed. Arthur locked eyes with Ghost almost immediately. "Dibs on the bed." They barked at the same time.
They ended up playing a round of rock, paper, scissors. Ghost won. Arthur sulked as he trudged over to the couch, plopping down on it. Buttons on the arm of the couch. He pressed one out of pure curiosity.
The back of the couch began a gentle vibration. It was like a massage chair, but bigger. He smirked, "I'm a lucky bird." He felt the prick of Ghost's stare on the back of his head, then heavy footsteps.
Arthur swung his feet onto the couch just as the other lieutenant was about to sit down, tutting. "You chose the bed." Ghost glared at him before slipping back to the bed.
It was settled in silence for a while until Ghost spoke up. "What's the real reason of hidin' your name, Harpy?" Said man glanced up before sighing ruefully. "Just to pull you lot's legs. Name's Arthur. Arthur Hale."
Ghost nodded after processing the information. "Simon Riley." Arthur snorted. "I know." "But you didn't know Soap's real name."
"'Cause Laswell only gave me a fair warning that you're distant. The resident asshole." Ghost seemed to raise a brow at that. "And Gaz?"
"Brags about how sweet he is. He's a son to her." Arthur shrugged. "I'm off on a snack run. Saw a vender with some crisps 'nd sweets." And he was off with a wad of cash. His plan? Raid the vending machine.
He slipped the cash into the slot, bought all the barbecue-flavored potato chips, grabbing himself a handful of different candies. Then, with a menacing glare to the receptionist for giving him the wrong look, he waddled back up the stairs.
Kicking the door open, he padded over to the couch and dropped his snacks, watching as Ghost leans over and plucks a back of the chips before he could be stopped.
"Buy your fuckin' own, ya twit." Arthur complained as he tugged his mask off, but immediately forgot about it as he opened some of his candy, snapping off a piece and shoving it into his mouth.
A knock interrupted his snack time, he grumbled and made his way over, swinging the door open. Soap and Gaz stood there. "We're bored." Gaz said.
Soap nodded solemnly. "Aye. Wanted tae make sure Ghost wasn't beatin' ya to a pulp." He peered around, spotting Ghost now sitting on the couch, balaclava rolled up enough for him to eat.
"Yer eatin' sweets 'n' crisps wi'out us?!" He yelped, immediately pushing inside. Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples as Gaz shot him an apologetic look. "Come in, Gaz. No need for that." Arthur said, letting the man walk in.
He sat back down on his spot of the couch, grabbing a bag of the crisp, opening it and popping two or three in his mouth just as Soap yelped, "Blimey! Yer no' wearin' yer mask!"
Arthur blinked. "Yes. I only wear it during briefings and missions." He informed. "Right now we're just sitting in a bloody motel. Take some and go away so I can sleep." He said, throwing away his chip bag after finishing it.
As Gaz and Soap grabbed some snacks, Arthur was attempting, and failing, to shove Ghost off the couch. Finally, after the other two left, Ghost stood, mask rolled down again.
Arthur flopped down on the couch, assuming Ghost was making his way to the bed. Until he opened his eyes again to be staring directly into Ghost's ambered brown eyes.
"I quite like harpy eagles, Arthur."
And then he was gone from in front of his face, padding to the bed, taking off the majority of his gear and sliding under the sheets.
Arthur swallowed hard, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened.
—
Arthur sat in the middle seat, mask back on, cramped between Ghost and Soap. He shuffled slightly, speaking to Soap and then acting like he couldn't hear Ghost when he spoke.
They were far through the border now, heading to Alejandro's new base to learn more about what Graves was up to. Rodolfo commented on the fact that there were now two men with masks.
Arthur smiled in response behind his mask, Ghost grunted, Soap whined about how they were both lieutenants.
Ahead of them, Price and Gaz were in the lead vehicle, and Arthur internally wished he was with them instead. His eye dart once to Ghost, immediately looking away when he notices the man is staring at him with a tilted head. Amused? Something else?
What was last night? Was it a simple statement? Was Ghost flirting with him? Why did he have to use that voice? That low and raspy and delicious—
His head snapped up as Soap began asking about Graves. Alejandro switched from talking to Rodolfo in Spanish to English to reply.
"He has a routine. It's mainly my friends, some of it my family, not much. Other's are strangers that I see around and help. He begins the killing just as the sunsets. On the streets or in their own homes."
Arthur nodded, processing the information. "We'll get the bastard, Alejandro. And he'll pay." Alejandro gave a smirk and a nod via the rearview mirror. "I know you will, Harp. You always do."
—
They sat around a table, plan discussed. Interrupt Graves' party, kill any and all Shadows on sight, Arthur goes after Graves if he bolts.
Apparently, "Ghost team" was what happened next, according to Soap, this happened before. Masks with skull print. like Ghost's 3D printed one. But just balaclava.
He watched Ghost grab one. And then the man was pulling his mask and balaclava off. Arthur gawked. Short blonde hair with a dark tint to it, strong jawline, a Roman curved nose, eyes on full display surrounded by the eye black.
And then it was gone. Covered by the balaclava. Arthur sighed and grabbed one for himself, taking off his plain black one and replacing it with the skull printed.
One by one, everyone pulled a balaclava on. And then they were moving out again. Arthur checked over his weaponry several times before he was thoroughly satisfied.
"Don't die. It'd look bad on you as your first mission with us." Ghost's voice sounded beside him. Arthur scoffed, drawling sarcastically, "Oh, by all means, I'll go right up to Graves with a note that says, 'We should have a tea party. P.S. put a bullet through my skull to embarrass me on my first mission with my new team.'"
Ghost raised a brow, rolling his eyes and leaning back, muttering something that sounded distinctly like "Brat".
Huffing in annoyance, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest like a pouty child that didn't get his way.
Soap glanced at the two. "Never seen Simon get along wi' some'ne so fast, Harpy." He murmured to Arthur. "I'm chuffed." Was all the latter could grumble.
—
The sun was fully set, the darkness of the night only reduced by the full moon. Ghost had long since been dropped off to secure a roof and they ditched the vehicles and took on foot so their approach wouldn't be heard.
A gunshot rang out, immediately, Arthur grabbed for his comms. "Ghost, how copy?" A pause. "Clear." "Where'd that gunshot come from?" He asked, to which Ghost replied with, "Stand by... Searching."
Arthur held a fist up, having been leading so he could immediately get eyes on Graves. The comms crackled back to life as Ghost spoke, "A hundred clicks west from you. Graves is there." "Acknowledged."
Arthur flicked down his night-vision goggles, the rest following. They made their way west and sure enough, there was a group of Shadows, in the middle, Graves.
Lined up and tied like hogs were a shit-ton of civilians. "Secure a perimeter around them and move in. Kill on sight. Graves can come back in several piece as long as he's alive." Price barked. Many circled around to different angles.
Arthur checked his gun one last time before stalking forward, guns began firing. Arthur's eyes darted through the chaos, catching sight of Graves disappearing behind a building.
Alejandro barked through comms, but Arthur was already on the American's tail. His boots thudded against the ground, his assault rifle long since tossed to the ground.
He yanked his knife out of it's sheathe, throwing it and hitting Graves in the leg with a sickening squelch. But the man kept running. Arthur slowed to a walk.
Paces forward, he found his knife on the concreted road and a blood trail. He stalked onward, it led into a muddy area. A smudged foot print.
Walking or running? Running, the foot print was too pushed to be a walk. Graves is draining blood, and fast. Arthur knows he's not far behind. He followed every trace slowly. Like a predator knowing it had the upper hand.
He paused after walking another mile, turning his head down an alley. A foot just barely stuck out. But Arthur saw it. Heard the ragged breathes as he approached.
Graves was propped against the wall, dazed. "You know. I wouldn't give two flying fucks if you died, Phillip. But Price wants you alive." He hissed, hauling Graves up.
"You tracked me down with eyesight. True to your callsign, ain't ya?" Graves growled as Arthur bound his wrists. Just then, Ghost's voice came over comms. "Harpy, sitrep?"
"Target secure, heading to rendezvous now." Arthur replied, shoving Graves forward to get him walking.
—
Arthur watched as Price ungraciously shoved Graves into the Humvee, arms crossed over his chest. He jolted as he felt a tap on his arm, turning to find Ghost standing there. "Y'dropped somethin'." The taller man rumbled, passing Arthur his DR-H-Versatile.
Arthur nodded his thanks, taking his gun back. "Soap says he's never seen you get used to someone so fast." Ghost glanced at Arthur before shrugging.
"Told you. I do like Harpy Eagles..." The man replied with the same voice as the previous night, sending shivers down Arthur's spine. "What're you playing at, Ghost?"
"Nothing. I'm appreciating the finer things in birds, Arthur." Ghost replied. "Call me Simon. Also, Price says we're going out for a few pints. To a job well done for our newest member."
Arthur watched as Ghost turned and walked away, Gaz was staring. Shock warring with amusement. Soap trotted up withthe biggest grin ever.
Ghost was standing in the direction Soap came. "Think Simon likes th' way 'is mask looks on ya." Arthur snorted. "Doubtful. When does he like anything?"
Soap shrugged. "Since ye came along, lad. Ah ken him. Practically been eye fuckin' ye. Told me 'bout what he said to you last night. Said ye turned the color o' a cherry."
Arthur blinked. Had he really? "What did he mean by it?" He asked and Soap just shrugged again. "I dunno. I ken he likes ye. Else he wouldnae be talkin' tae ye as much as he does."
The former just nods as Gaz comes over. "Bloody hell, you missed it, Soap. Ghost was all in Harpy's personal space." Arthur flushed, "We were talkin'. And it's Arthur." He informed.
Soap beamed, Gaz grinned under the mask, Arthur noted it by the way it lifted up. "Lets go get those pints." Arthur said.
—
Three days passed until they were able to make it back to the UK. They went to base first so everyone could shower and dress appropriate for the bar.
Arthur chose a simple black T-shirt and a different pair of his tactical jeans, leaving his mask. He checked the gash that had long since been there, frowning. It wasn't anything but healed skin now.
But it still reminded himself of that one time he'd been caught by the enemy team, the drag of the knife as it carved out some of his skin. It made his stomach twist in knots. He forced the thoughts down, padding out of his private quarters to meet the others at the Humvee.
The drive was only twenty minutes and was no reason for him to get antsy. They walked in and grabbed a booth. Arthur ordered a whiskey, neat. He gulped it down almost immediately amd ordered another.
He slipped off and began talking to other people, bored out of his mind. Hands brushed his arms as women constantly used that fake swert voice. It disgusted him. Pissed him off.
At some point he had enough drinks that he was piss drunk. Another woman tried making a move, and he angrily slurred out, "I'm gay, ya fuckin' prat." That didn't stop her.
Arthur stiffened at a hand on his hip and a deep rumbling voice in his ear. Ghost. "Ya ran off like an idiot." The woman was long gone now, intimidated by Ghost.
The smaller man grinned up at Ghost. "Hi there. You're a... a hot bloke." He murmured drunkenly. "Fancy a cwtch?" Arthur grumbled.
Ghost raised a brow and dragged the smaller man back to the table, "Alright, Mr. Cuddleton. You're pissed off your arse." Arthur shook his head insistently, "No, 'm not."
The rest of the team looked up and Soap chuckled in amusement. "Ye don't give 'im that cwtch 'e wants, he's probably gon' take it anyway wi' 'ow drunk 'e is."
Arthur did take it anyway, pressed against Ghost, cuddling into the warmth radiating from the bigger man, earning a grunt of what sounded like amusement, though Arthur wasn't too sure.
He was dead asleep by time the team left, Ghost carrying him around to get him where he needed. He took the key to Arthur's quarters from the latter's pocket, unlocking it and pushing it open once they were at base.
Ghost set Arthur on the bed and pulled the sheets over him, noting the lack of personal belongings before padding out.