The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Hernandez was already gone when Reynolds was making her way outside to train. Wearing a fitted, black t-shirt with a cobalt blue dagger on her back and matching black shorts, she went for a run. The men were already training but she did not bother even looking at their direction let alone joining them.
Reynolds was going crazy doing absolutely nothing, so she decided to head to the armoury to clean her favourite HK416 which is similar to M27 they trained during basic training. Disassembling and cleaning her weapons were the best meditative process to calm her nerves. She oiled it up nicely as misfires and jams were a pain in the middle of a firefight.
Night fell quickly and the rec room was buzzing with life. Reynolds decided to sit by herself, as usual, swiping mindlessly on her phone. Two clinks sounded as a grinning gentleman set down two shot glasses in front of her. He filled them to the brim with a clear liquid.
"Cheers."
The gentleman downed the shot instantly, but Reynolds kept staring at it.
"It's not poisoned," he insisted.
Reluctantly, she took the shoot, the alcohol burning her throat as it went down. As soon as the shot glass hit the table, he was already refilling them. After three shots he decided to finally talk.
"Archer," he smiled extending his hand.
"Reynolds," she said, shaking his hand.
"So," he said downing another shot, "I have to admit, it is strange for us to have a PMC attached to the 141."
She decided to remain silent, so Archer carried on with the conversation.
"I heard that you were a Marine and so was Hernandez. Did you work together?"
"No, we have never met before Cobalt. Different units."
"Listen, I heard about Meat. Pay him no mind, he is an arsehole."
She chuckled and continued downing another couple of shots. Reynolds started loosening up a bit. She tried to restrain herself, but stress, exhaustion, and alcohol did not mix well. He continued pressing on her deployments, where she was stationed with and what she did. He was an easy guy to talk to and next thing she knew they were talking about their personal lives. With no partner and family waiting for her back home, she did not have much to add to the conversation.
One of the guys, named Royce, dragged Archer to play billiard with the rest and she was left by her lonesome once more. But what she saw next made her stomach sink. Archer was clustered alongside MacTavish and Ghost. They all peeked at her direction, making her realise that she was simply approached to gather information about her. She cursed under her breath for not anticipating it and decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.
The icy night air bit into her skin as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Hot tears streamed down her face as she forced to steady her breathing. She was so lost in her aggravation that she failed to notice someone approaching.
"Are you alright?"
She spun round so fast that she almost lost her footing. Roach was staring intensely at her as blindly shuffled in his packet of cigarettes. Reynolds turned away from him and hastily wiped the tears away.
"Here to gather intel like your buddy?" she gnashed out.
"I am not going to insult your intelligence by lying to you, mate."
He held a cigarette by his teeth and lit it up. He offered her one, but she declined.
"We requested the file on you, but Shepherd is holdin' out on us. You must understand where we're coming from. We are working with someone blindly here."
"Shepherd is not holding out on you," she sniffled. "There is sensitive information in my file from the deployments that the Marine Corps will make it harder to release."
"Anything we should be worried about?"
Reynolds snorted. "Nah, nothing to worry about. Back in the day, Female Engagement Teams consisted of female Marines to search and interact with the women and children of the villages in Afghanistan due to their culture. The FET I was assigned to was a bit... different."
"How so?"
"We were assigned with the Raiders and MARSOC oversaw our team. Marines Spec Ops sometimes had missions that would involve the wives and children of very high valued individuals. The thing is, we would need to carry out the mission up to their standard. So, we trained and worked alongside them."
"You trained with spec ops?"
"So did Hernandez."
"That's impressive," stated Roach.
"Nothing special."
"You got a silver star and a purple heart for a reason, no?"
Reynolds chortled. "That's because we were a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. We would run into oncoming fire and commandeer enemy tacticals like it was another day at the office."
Her expression became solemn instantly. "Our team had the highest turnover for this reason. Either by request for transfers or KIAs."
"What about your current employer? Matthews?"
"Dave Matthews. He was a Delta Force operator. One of the best. Got fed up, took his early retirement, and created Cobalt Strategic. He was the one who poached me."
"I bet. You had a remarkable career as a Marine. What happened?" he inquired.
"I best go and rest," she smiled, ending the conversation abruptly. She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for the chat, Roach. Good night."
"'Night."
Roach took a long drag from his cigarette and glanced over his shoulder as Reynolds made her way back inside. He grinned, satisfied that the Sergeant felt comfortable enough to open up to him.
One would think that during the meals the rec room would be much quieter. Yet the men still found a way to be loud while stuffing their faces. Reynolds was munching on some bacon when Roach settled with his breakfast in front of her.
"Good morning," he mumbled.
"Morning."
"You know you can join us for training if you like. I see you run by yourself it must get boring."
"Thank you for the offer, Roach," she grinned, "but I prefer to run by myself."
A low thumping from the helicopter blades were heard. Reynolds furrowed her brow and made her way outside. It was one of Cobalt's birds, but Hernandez was supposed to be away on a mission. She gasped in delight as she saw a young man stepping out of the helo. She would recognise his unruly hair from a mile away.
She sprinted towards the hangars He grinned from ear to ear and was greeted with a crushing embrace from Reynolds.
"Thank God you're here!" she whispered in his ear as she held him close.
"Glad to be here, Chris," he beamed.
They approached the barracks where Ghost and MacTavish approached them cautiously. She turned to them to introduce her friend.
"This is Captain John MacTavish and his second-in-command the lieutenant, Ghost."
The youngster shook their hands cautiously. "Hey. I am William Rosenberg the Third, Cobalt Strategic's tech guy..."
Ghost cocked his eyebrow and MacTavish narrowed his eyes.
"...but you can call me Billy," he beamed.
"Like Billy the Kid or Billy the goat?" smirked Ghost.
Billy's mouth gaped open unsure on how to respond to Ghost's quip.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" burst out Reynolds, indignant.
"Sir."
"What?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you... sir," he corrected her.
"Jesus, you're insufferable," she sighed. "You should think things through before you say them out loud."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Ghost smirked, looking absolutely satisfied with himself that he managed to aggravate Reynolds further. MacTavish shot him a dirty look causing him to shrug.
"Welcome to the base Billy," MacTavish said as he shook his hand. "This is going to be a short welcome as we're needed in the ops centre. Ghost, rally the men because you are needed elsewhere."
"Roger that."
They darted inside the ops centre where Shepherd was already waiting inside. The photo of Al-Jabbar plastered on the large screen in front of them.
"The time has come to execute the mission," started Shepherd. "Hadi Al-Jabbar, known arms dealer to the highest bidder. He deals in small arms and even missiles."
He handed them both separate files with intel on the target.
"Sergeant Reynolds was sent in a couple years back to be close with our target through her PMC, Cobalt Strategic. She was assigned to halt a highly sensitive deal between Al-Jabbar and a Saudi Arabian prince."
He stroked his moustache and peered at Reynolds.
"And if I am not mistaken, the mission was a success and the deal fell through."
"That is correct," she stated.
MacTavish flicked his eyes towards her. Scanning the details of her solo mission, he would never admit it, but he was impressed. The details of the reports by themselves showed incredible detail and finesse that was obvious a lot of thought and planning went behind the scenes.
"Al-Jabbar is believed to be attending his favourite sex club, Crimson Lounge in Amsterdam between tonight and tomorrow.
"The mission is to be divided into two phases; Phase One will consist of getting near Al-Jabbar and clone his phone. That is where you come in," he said pointing his finger at Billy.
"Al-Jabbar loves to install jammers wherever he goes. He communicates through frequencies only known to him," said Billy.
"Can't you identify these frequencies?" asked MacTavish.
"Of course I can," he raised his shoulders casually, "but it is extremely time-consuming and there is a risk of communicating over the bad guys and get made."
"How are we going to proceed then?"
"In these cases," Reynolds interjected, "we carry on with the mission without comms and operate in the dark."
"That's madness!"
"Welcome to Cobalt Strategic," she murmured.
Billy grabbed a small, old smartphone and handed it to Reynolds.
"This phone needs to be extremely close to Al-Jabbar to manage to clone it or it won't work. I hope you ended up on good terms with him."
She grimaced as she turned the smartphone around in her hand.
"Moving on to Phase Two," continued Shepherd, "Reynolds and MacTavish will proceed underground and force entry into the main office of the club where it is suspected that Al-Jabbar is using it as an ops centre."
"Why am I needed here exactly?" the captain asked, confused of his role.
"Reynolds will explain everything to you. William and I will leave you to coordinate between yourselves. The only information I can provide is extraction. Everything else is up to your discretion."
Billy and Shepherd left the room, and Reynolds cast a look towards MacTavish and sighed deeply. This was going to be a long one.
He took a seat while she leaned against the table next to him. The silence in the ops centre felt suffocating. She was alone with one of her captors for the first time since she arrived on base. The urge to pounce on him was great but she resisted.
"What am I doing here, Sergeant?"
"The sex club Al-Jabbar is a repeat customer of is known to be a popular spot amongst couples. Single people do visit the establishment, but solo women tend to attract numerous male suitors. I need a deterrent against these distractions."
She sighed and forced herself to look him straight in the eye.
"That's where you come in. I need you to be my boyfriend, partner, call it what you will."
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"You want me to act as your boyfriend."
It wasn't a question, yet she responded anyway. "Yes."
MacTavish started laughing and sank his head in his hands.
"I trust that you know how to behave with a woman."
He stopped mid-laugh, his smile turning to a scowl.
"I know how to behave with a woman, Reynolds."
"That's for sure, especially when it comes to interrogation."
MacTavish opened his mouth to retort but decided to remain silent.
"Bouncers and security are going to be on us like hawks. Those who look out of place are thrown out. Crimson Lounge is very exclusive. Do you have a girlfriend, Captain?"
"No."
"Huh," she said, looking pensive.
The captain was a decent looking guy. It surprised her that nobody had tied him down yet.
"I need to know," she said, forcing herself to look at him, "that you can be committed to the role as my boyfriend."
"I could ask you the same question."
The tension was electrifying in the room. The mission was doomed from the start and they both knew it. She was concerned that they weren't going to be able to pull it off.
"I know that you despise me after the kidnapping incident," he said, his voice clipped, "but I need you to trust me, or one of us is going to get hurt or worse..."
"You fuckin' kidnapped and tortured me," she spat, slamming her hand on the table. She finally let it all go. "False imprisonment doesn't really help you trust someone, does it?!"
"We acted on orders!" he snapped back. "We had no idea who you were. We were kept in the dark. We thought that we were interrogating a bloody terrorist!"
Reynolds moved further away from him and gave him her back. She rubbed her eyes in frustration and sighed.
"This isn't going to work," she said in a defeated tone. "We despise each other. We are constantly biting our heads off. We're going to be made immediately."
"You want me to act out as your boyfriend, right?" he inquired.
"Yes!" she replied exasperated, turning to face him again. "That means touching, holding hands, kissing... You can't be looking at me as if you prefer to be cleaning your rifle instead. You need to look like you want me!"
He shot up from his chair and closed the space between them, forcing her to crane her neck to look into his eyes. His lips inches away from hers as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her heart skipped a beat as his fingers brushed her cheek cupping it, his thumb stroking her skin. He reached for her neck, his lips locking on her pulse point sucking on it tenderly.
Reynolds instinctively lolled her head to the side to give him more access, exhaling sharply. His tongue licked her flesh sending shivers down her core. Her hand rested on his waist pulling him closer as her heart beat hard against her chest. A whimper escaped her lips, her eyes fluttering as he pressed his body against hers.
He pulled away gently, still close enough to feel his hot breath on her skin. She realised that she was the only one clutching at his clothes whilst his arms hung loosely to his side. She let go instantly and stumbled backwards.
"Was that good enough for you, darlin'?" he smirked.
Reynolds stammered, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
What the hell just happened?!
"L-Let's just carry on," she said flustered, trying to focus her attention to the intel on the table. "FYI, Crimson Lounge is divided into two floors. The ground floor is a normal club. That is where Al-Jabbar will be, lounging in one of the VIP sofas. It will be heavily guarded so I will complete Phase One by myself."
"What will I do?" he asked, sitting back in the chair again as though nothing had just transpired between them.
"Stay at the bar and have a drink. Wait for me to return. If I don't, proceed to Phase Two by yourself."
"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to hide his concern.
"Al-Jabbar and I did not end on good terms, and he is known to have a short fuse. Even if he beats me senseless or God forbid, neutralise me, carry on with the mission."
MacTavish noticed a hint of dread in her voice. She delivered it with a casual tone, but her eyes betrayed the fear underneath.
"Understood. Are you comfortable doing this?"
"It doesn't matter what I feel. Phase Two consists of going underground to the ops room Al-Jabbar is thought to be using," she carried on ignoring him. "According to the recce reports, the room is not heavily guarded which makes it easier for us to access. We put the stick drive in, copy the files, and get the hell out."
"Seems easy enough."
"Be warned. The underground is where freaky stuff happens MacTavish. Keep your head down and keep walking."
MacTavish peered at her inquisitively wondering what she meant. He guessed he will know soon enough.
"I will already be there. We will meet outside the establishment."
Reynolds went to leave the ops centre but stopped suddenly, turning back to MacTavish.
"That was... okay, by the way. Your acting was decent."
"I can do more if you like," he remarked, his eyes gleaming.
"No need," she said, avoiding his gaze, her neck flushing red.
She banged into the door jamb on her way out and looked at it as if it magically appeared. He stifled a laugh as she shot him a dirty look, disappearing down the corridor.