Happiness is a Warm Gun 2

Whatever you do, Alex, don't act like a newbie.

Seriously. You look like a doofus when you do that.


We left the comfy seats and out into the sun, and like the good man said, they were there.


I recognized Captain MacTavish immediately. The mohawk was new, but...I likes the mohawk. They were undeniably attractive on some men.

And holy shit Batman, I'm being a girl again. This is why we're not allowed in groups like this, I bet.


Along with him there was a kid with goggles who looked about the age of my kid brother, a man with apparently NO common sense as he wore full body armor and a skull balaclava in the scorching desert-y heat, and another guy who was wearing a baseball cap.

Not a bad looking crowd really. But I promise to keep my hands off.


Maybe.


"Captain, this is your newest member, First Lieutenant Alexandrine Girard. The one we... discussed about." Shepherd said before giving my shoulder a pat and walking back to his chopper. Leaving me alone. With four men. Great. Fabulous.

Just what the fuck was all that 'discussed' thing about?


"So...Should I salute?" I asked them.

Fuck! What a dumb question. You fail so hard Alex. Go, go now. Go into the desert and just die now.


"Nah. Let's just go ahead and get started." Captain answered as he waved at us to follow him. Ohhh hot Damn, he was Scottish. Me like.

"Is that an accent I detect?" The guy with the skull balaclava asked me with a chirp.

"American...?" Does the patch not state the obvious?

"Nah you go somethin' else in there, mate." I can't see behind the mask, but I could detect a grin back there somewhere.

"Well... my mom raised me half English half French, so... maybe you hear a little of that?"

He snapped his fingers, "Bingooo, there it is."

Goggles grinned, "We gots a Frenchie!" He elbowed Balaclava, "Hope she doesn't surrender easy."

Balaclava turned around and went after Captain, "Or maybe we do."

... Ew.


~


We got to a car, thank God.

The man with the ball cap climbed into the driver's seat. I climbed into the backseat's middle, Skull-guy on my left, MacTavish on my right. Goggles climbed in to the front passenger.

"Alright Lieutenant," Captain said, running his hand through his hair and making my heart thump and my blood go to bad places. He smelled like sweat and burnt cordite. "We all have code-names, for security reasons. You know the drill. Memorize them, alright?"

"Alright." I felt ridiculous and small. And n00bish.


"I'm just Captain MacTavish. That's Ghost." Skull-guy. "That's Roach." Goggles. "And we call him Driver." The kid with the cap.

"Easy enough." I said, shifting my weight so I wouldn't be touching them.

"I vote we call her French. She's the only French kid on the Force, right?" Roach turned around in his seat and grinned. Is that a gold tooth?

"My PARENTS are French." Can I not have a cooler name? Ugh.

"It'll be easy to get your attention. No one on our team is French." Roach nodded.

"You're just repeating yourself."

"I stand by my point." He smirked, crossing his arms.

"Alright alright, can we cut the chatter? I don't like the looks of that smoke."


I leaned forward and looked out the front window. "Oh my God."