Of Their own Accord (for Monique_Minx and Bsquad)

[Bsquad]

Closed for Monique_Minx and Bsquad

*Note! Story is based somewhat on Modern Warfare 2. But not entirely.

On with the plot:

151st Special Operations Force, Black Operations, the Ghosts. To the world at large, they do not exist. To the militaries of the countries who submit their soldiers to this combat unit, it is merely a legend. Something spoken of in hushed tones that gained more and more layers of intrigue and fanciful myth with every retelling. They were the elite of the elite. Soldiers who did not exist, whose actions were not known, who acted outside the rules of war and acted without the knowledge of the governments that they had served. They were Specialists, the best, members of the Australian and British SAS, the Canadian Special Operations Regiment, American Special Forces, Rangers, SEALs and DELTA force. They were hand picked, chosen because they were the best to be selected. They’d fought in Iran, India, China, even in Russia and Brazil, in declared wars and shadow conflicts. They fought against terrorists before they could rise up, against enemy forces…and now they faced another war, another conflict which had never been expected or predicted.

War…between Russia and America.

No one knew the whole story. Terrorism, a brutal slaughter in Moscow of Russian civilians in the International Airport, hundreds dead…brutally murdered by terrorists in cold blood. A massive firefight through the entire terminal against Russian ALPHAN units, counter terrorism forces. The Russian troops were slaughtered, but only one of the terrorists died. A single man who sparked a war, an American Ranger lay dead on in the airport, one of the terrorists who’d killed civilians. No one knew the entire story, no one knew what was going on. But all wars are started by a single moment in time, and this one began when an American was inserted to eliminate a terrorist cell, and became a pawn for another. So now it was war, and the 151st found itself fighting in the forefront of another conflict, war that had been brought to the shores of the United States for the first time in two hundred years.

Now Russian forces were dropping on America’s shores, paratroopers were dropping down on Virginia and Maryland, descending on Washington DC in an almost suicidal mission of revenge. America was burning, but the 151st wasn’t fighting in the Suburbs of Annapolis or the outskirts of Washington. They were spread around the world, trying to find out what had happened and trying to discover a thread that they could follow to an answer that none of them wanted to find. Which was why the 151st’s Combat team Bravo was sitting on the USS Teddy Roosevelt of the coast of Rio de Janeiro. There were twenty troopers in the team. Normally it was twenty one, but they were down one after a training accident. Which was why right now the mission was on hold for the newest team member to arrive on the parts shipment. The mood in the Carrier Battle group was tense, there was a war on, a war that had landed on US shores with total surprise, and here they were, one of America’s most powerful weapons of warfare, and they were tasked with the support of twenty two men about to try and hunt down a single arms dealer in Brazil instead of making for either the east coast…or like most members of the navy wanted to aim for, the Kola Peninsula like they’d planed to do for fifty years during the cold war. But now there were twenty one men in one of the main hangers checking weapons and gear and going over intel data under the curious gaze of idle sailors and the odd marine. The sailors were more than a little worried about the harsh gaze of the elite troopers that had taken part of their hanger…the marines had the usual ‘I could take ‘em’ thoughts before they got a better look into the eyes of the men who were stripping weapons, sharpening knives and going over their gear.

They weren’t in uniform. No camouflage, nothing uniform. They had tactical gear over civilian clothing. It was an odd group, civilian hairstyles, even facial hair on one or two, most of the marines whispered ‘Delta’ to each other, but the members of the 151st didn’t try to correct them, confusion was a good thing to cultivate...easy enough when you simply ignored questions. Sergeant Chuck ‘Chop’ Edwards removed the bolt carrier from his ACR and examined it, running over it with a keen eye as Corporal Billie ‘Buckwheat’ Jones loaded magazines next to him on a table covered with a very wide selection of death dealing implements. Neither one of them wanted to be here in this hangar getting ready to go into Brazil, both of them were Americans, and both of them wanted to be home fighting for their country. There were eight more US troopers in the team, five Brits, two Canadians, and fpur Aussies. Though the word was that the newest member of the team was gonna be an Aussie…that and there was a rumor that the newbie was one of the best sent to the 151st.

“So how long you think this gonna take?” Buckwheat asked Chop. The Sergeant ran over his weapon one last time and re-assembled it finally. His gray eyes looked over the ACR and it’s underslung Grenade launcher, looking down the EOTech Holo sight atop it and checking his aim. He was a big guy, six foot tall, and the kind of man who didn’t have a neck, putting him in combat armor made him even bigger. He looked like one of the guys who hauled the M240 heavy MG's and ammo. But he was a rifleman, former Special Forces, and a member of the 151st for three years.

“Dunno, I hope we get the hell out and make it back to the US before the Russians get wiped out. Bastards gonna pay.” Chop said, setting his ACR down and checking the knives he carried that had earned him the callsign ‘chop’. He ran his heavy combat knife across a whetstone as he considered matters.

“Hell yes.” Buckwheat said with a growl. He was young and new, in the team long enough not to be a rookie, but still rather rough around the edges, still eager. He’d missed combat in Iraq, only hearing about the good stories that he’d been told.

“Yeah, but you catch a round and you won’t get a chance to kill Ivan.” Chop warned, the ‘snick’ sound of his blade cutting through the air as the rest of the team made their own checks.

“Yeah…you hear about the newbie?” Buckwheat asked, looking down his own sights.

“Naw, just that he’s good.”

“It’s not a he…it’s a She.”

Chop looked up and gazed at Buckwheat hard. He’d heard about the Aussies, they’d given women the chance at combat roles a few years back…but he hadn’t heard about their SAS allowing any women into their ranks. Chop had been in Iraq and Afghanistan…he’d seen how women reacted in the combat zone, a lot like men if you looked past the breasts. They could be tough and they could break, but hell…testicles didn’t give you a monopoly on having balls. Chop looked down the table and nodded to Captain Caruthers. The Brit had been doing his own checks, already in his gear and looking over a map. He made his way down the table and looked at his second in command.

“Yeah Chop?” He said in that oh so refined English accent he always affected.

“Buckwheat here says that we’ve got a new recruit coming in to replace Samson and his broken leg.” Chop said, his face curious.

“Oh yes. One of the best I’ve heard, member of the Australian SAS. Sent to us special just in time for this mission.” Caruthers said.

“Woman?” Chop replied. The British Captain looked at the American Sergeant with a pointed gaze, then glanced at Buckwheat who made himself rather scarce.

“That is correct.” Caruthers said, and the look on his face said that he had misgivings about the whole affair. Chop’s eyes narrowed and he started checking his G18 sidearm.

“Well, had to happen sooner or later. Aussies are pretty odd…but they know how to fight.” Chop said simply, glancing at Caruthers to see the reaction. He was surprised at the rather sour expression on the British officer’s face.

“You’re not worried about a woman?” He asked.

“No. Not really. I suppose she’s my responsibility?” Chop asked, he usually drew duty as ‘battle buddy’ for new members in the team. Supervising and training them, making sure they fit in. First time he’d have to do the job with a woman though.

“Indeed. Don’t know much, things have been rather patchy since the Russian troops started landing on your east coast. No personnel jacket, and this mission doesn’t give us time to run a proper training mission for her to fit in…” Caruthers said, and then got quiet listening in to his ear piece. He said a few soft responses into his throat mic and looked back at Chop.
“I take it she’s here?” Chop said, listening to the dull thump from above them on the flight deck as the arrestor wires caught the incoming supply plane. Passengers arrived on a carrier at sea on the supply flights that brought in the unusual gear that would be needed to keep the planes in the air and the Air wing operational. This one had flown in from the Falklands, bringing the newest member of their team on a very long journey from her homeland.

“Indeed.” Caruthers said and nodded before he turned back to the rest of the unit, finishing up their weapons checks and looking to their Captain.

“Our newest arrival is here. She’ll be down here in a few minutes. I remind all of you that she’s earned her place amongst the Ghosts and she deserves all the respect of one who’s been chosen to become a member of our unit.” Caruthers said, hearing the few surprised responses from the rest of the team…and the odd ‘what the fuck?’ comment that came from the odd trooper. Chop remained quiet and pulled on his Land Warrior eye piece and adjusted his helmet. He was ready for a battle, ready for a war…but right now he felt more concern for the possible conflict that might crop up from the newest trooper in the unit.

 

[monique_minx]

She watched the sea expand from the window of the plane and sighed softly at the thought of her new post, she’d stripped her tactical gear off and stored it for the trip and she sat in plain denim jeans and a white t shirt. Kimberly had been told very little about this new assignment though her record had been laid plainly before her during the general’s stirring speech about honour and duty. She’d near gone to sleep by the time he got to the point of it and told her she was being reassigned to some international corps.

The 151st or the Ghosts he’d told her, she’d responded that she’d never heard of them which had gotten a chuckle from the general who then stated, “Of course not, they don’t exist.”

She ran her hand through her short brown locks, they’d grown to her shoulders and she was grateful that the days of cropping her hair back to nothing were gone. Her brown eyes dimmed as she yawned and stretched out slightly before the pilot announced that they were five minutes out from the carrier. She breathed deep and smiled, finally! She worried about fitting in with this international team as she knew next to nothing about them or the mission she was being sent on. Kim knew the way the game was played but it didn’t mean she had to like it.

All 5’9” of her got up and made her way to the back where she grabbed her gear and strapped her vest on, her thigh holster wrapped around her perfectly and she took her sidearm from a small case. She took the magazine lying next to it and shoved it into the base roughly before checking the safety and the condition of the weapon. Once she was satisfied with her little Browning, she smiled and thought of the rough scrapes the gun had gotten her out of before she holstered it. The other gun was packed and ready to go as well but she’d leave the assembly of it for later on the carrier if she needed to as it took her less than a minute to assemble it anyway.

She heard the pilot yell out that they were coming into land, she raced back to her seat and strapped herself in as the plane started its descent. She groaned and gripped the edges of her chair, she hated landings and particularly these ones as they always made her ears want to peel off! She felt the plane speed up as the pilot pushed the throttle in for full airspeed and they started to lose rapid altitude. The wheels scraped the surface and bumped but she lurched forward with the sudden stop, quite grateful she had strapped herself in as she caught her breath and the door opened.

“Sergeant Kimberly Whitfield?” A crew member asked her and she nodded, “This way if you would ma’am.”

She unbuckled and grabbed at her cases, the first was obviously smooth black and meant for a large gun while the second was merely a dull green duffel bag which compacted her whole life inside it. She hauled both of them easily and waved the offer of assistance away as the man shrugged and led her down into the depths of the carrier without much hesitation. When they reached the door, he took her duffel from her and left her there with a gesture to enter. She groaned and fought for every ounce of bravery as she laid her hand on the door and pushed it open. Kimberly’s eyes travelled over the men and the keyword really hit her; men and not a single woman in sight…until now.

She walked in reluctantly, straight up to the Captain and saluted, “Sergeant Kimberly Whitfield of the Australian SAS Sir, call sign; Black Widow.” She stated with a stony faced expression, her call sign was better known than she was after all.

 

[Bsquad]

The technical term for it was ‘battlefield psychology’. It was the fancy thing that militaries had for keeping up morale, the fighting spirit, the will to win. Discipline, training, tactical understanding, fighting for your flag and country it only went so far. Sometimes men had to be put in the right frame of mind to go off to war and put their life on the line. Most military teams had their own rituals, a prayer, touching a ‘lucky charm’ playing music to get them into the right mindset. A lot of songs were playing over the loud speakers as Chop caught sight of the woman walking into the hangar. It was hard to miss her, but he was the first to spot her as the rest of the men were more intent on getting ready The music of “American Soldier” was playing and more than one of the Yank troopers were singing along to…along with that, “Arlington” and “Beer for My Horses”. Most of the team was clustered about, but Chop was watching the girl as she walked up to Captain Caruthers and saluted him crisply.

It was strange, his mind was analyzing her in two very different ways. The soldier in him that had fought in wars and fought along side females before was examining her carefully, noting the subtle way she glanced about, examining the ground and her surroundings, the state of her gear, the sidearm on her thigh and the weapons case that she didn’t let go of. All in all, it was a good appraisal. He walked towards them as Caruthers returned the salute, the English captain seemed to be rather dazed by the truth standing before him. But as he approached the pair he also noted the half of his brain that was examining the new member of the team like the woman that she was. Chop had the unmistakable feeling of attraction for her, but stifled it, hard. That was not the proper thing to be feeling for a new team member when you just met them, man or woman.

“Sergeant Kimberly Whitfield of the Australian SAS Sir, call sign; Black Widow.”


“Welcome to the team Sergeant Whitfield.” Caruthers said, ending the salute and looking as…welcoming as he could. He smiled and nodded.

“Well, you picked the perfect time to arrive, get yourself situated with Sergeant Edwards will help you out and be your battle buddy for this mission.” Caruthers said easily noticing that Chop had walked up and nodded to the American as he walked up. Chop smiled and nodded to Whitfield.

“Glad to have you Black Widow. Come on, we’ve got some gear for you.” Chop said, nodding to the far end of the table away from the bulk of the rest of the team. A few of them had started looking and noticed her for the first time, all it took was one…and the entire unit was watching her with the keen gaze of a pack of wolves eyeing a lone deer. Chop noticed the attention and shook his head slowly at them. Most of the team got the message, but a couple of pairs of eyes lingered, openly appraising the newest member of the team. Chop shook his head again and walked to the end of the table.

“Well, you certainly picked the best time to arrive. Got to love the Navy, but the mission’s up, and we’re glad to have you here. Call me Chop” He said with a nod to her. He was already in full gear, assault vest, sidearm on his right thigh, his ACR slung over his shoulder. The olive ball cap on his head was the only insignia he had on…a spade with a grinning skull on it. Death Card. He was also wearing an odd pair of glasses, slightly thicker than normal and banded around his head.

“Alright…let’s see…” He said, reaching down and opening up an ammo case that had a padded lining and a similar pair of glasses, a small armored box, an earpiece mic and a wrist mounted display. He handed each over to her, finally getting a good look at the new arrival, wanting to get her situated before they needed to move out.

“So Black Widow, just what brought you into the 151st? Where’d you serve?”

 

[monique_minx]

“Welcome to the team Sergeant Whitfield.”

She inclined her head in return, slowly assessing him and his responses as she quickly gathered he was somewhat uncomfortable with her presence; however she didn’t allow anything to show in her face or movements.

“Well, you picked the perfect time to arrive, get yourself situated with Sergeant Edwards will help you out and be your battle buddy for this mission.”

She turned slightly and smiled at the approaching soldier, her eyes appraising him briefly before she snapped out of it to listen to him.

“Glad to have you Black Widow. Come on, we’ve got some gear for you.”

She nodded and followed him as he gestured to a table at the far end, further from the rest of the team. The eyes that looked her over did not go unnoticed but Kimberly preferred not to let it show, she kept the scowl from her face and held a blank expression throughout. She wandered to the far end of the table, keeping her back to the ever watchful eyes that ran over her and make her feel naked in spite of the gear she had on.

“Well, you certainly picked the best time to arrive. Got to love the Navy, but the mission’s up, and we’re glad to have you here. Call me Chop”

“I’ll have to ask you how you got such a nickname some time, you can call me Kim.” She smiled brightly and then focused as he looked through the items on the table.

“Alright…let’s see…”

She watched as he slowly picked things up and handed them to her, she slipped the small armored box and glasses case into her pockets before wrapping the mounted display around her wrist and tucking the ear mic over her left ear.


“So Black Widow, just what brought you into the 151st? Where’d you serve?”

She looked up and finally got a better assessment of the man before her, he wasn’t bad to look at and he obviously knew what he was doing. He also wasn’t looking at her like a hungry dog at suppertime so she supposed he wasn’t too bad.

“The Australian army infantry originally and from there I was transferred to the SAS where I’ve served for about three years. A rather boring General and a long speech that near had me asleep in my seat brought me here actually.” She giggled softly, “Telling me something about a crazy international unit nicknamed the Ghosts, I blanked and he laughed.” Kim shrugged, “What about you Chop?”

 

[Bsquad]

Chop watched her take her gear quickly and donned the glasses, the ear piece and placed the CPU in her pocket. He nodded at the deft motions and retrived one of the ammo cans.

"They neglected to tell us just who you were, but we did have some word on what you carried." He opened the box and exposed a selection of loaded magazines for her Browning, and for her M21. He smiled a little as he set it down on the table for her. It was just like the military, they'll tell you just what you needed, but leave out some of the smaller details...but it was what it was, and taken along side everything else, she had to know how to fight aparently. Most special operations units had rather high standards for selecting troopers, so Black Widow -Kim- would be good. Rather above the average level of 'exceptional' that most units recruited from. She was a woman, and wheither or not the Aussies accepted women and men as being on the same level, there were a few thousand years of military convention against considering them equal.

But...she'd proven herself enough that she was here...making her the spiritual descendent of the Ancient Amazon women warriors. He chuckled at the thought but smiled a little. As he reached up he touched his thick glasses and brought up the tactical internet display on the interior of the glasses. He looked about, testing them slightly and checking the heads up display. His gaze traveled aroudn the room, drifting over the other troopers and checking their positions, then looking at Black Widow and checking the display ghosting over her.

"Tactical Internet system, taken from the US Army's Future Force Warrior Program." Chop supplied looking at her through the display and tapping on the control panel on his forearm, bringing up maps of the operation area and seeing the display of every team member's location. It was a hell of a system, briging everything together so the lowest trooper on the battlefield could see everything that they could see in the command post. Satellite coms, orbital imagery, recon reports, locations of friendly units, it was the ultimate in combat communcations. He smiled and looked at Kim.

"It's the best, we Yanks love our toys." He said easily and leaned on the table next to Kim.

"As for me...well, I enlisted out of High School, my Grandfather fought the Germans, my daddy fought the Germans and the Koreans and Chinese, then went on to fight the Vietnamese. I joined up since everyone in my family always joined up. US Army in Afghanistan and Iraq, and then the 151st snapped me up because I was a man of exceptional skills." Chop said simply, he'd been through a lot, and proven himself in the crucible of live fire combat. An entire generation of US Military soldiers was getting that kind of training, the most unforgiving kind, and re-learning lessons that you couldn't learn in peace time.

"As for my nickname...well, I like sharp things as you can tell. Any my name is Charles, Chuck. So Chop was natural." He said, gesturing to the machete slung over his shoulder, the large form of the Khuri at the small of his back, and the myriad knives on his gear...even the tomahawk next to his right thigh houlster.

He looked over at Kim and checked his ACR on impulse. His fingers checked it over on autopilot as he watched the new arrival to the team. She was attractive, though that was hard to miss. Most men didn't miss that kind of thing, especially the young agressive males that made up frontline combat units. Chop wasn't a 'young' man in the unit, he was pushing 29 truth be told. Somewhat behind the usual ages of being a sexual animal who only wanted to get laid...but he wasn't dead...he was just a little more intelligent about things. But this was the first time he'd had to deal with a woman being the trooper beside him, an attractive woman at that. He shook off the thought.

"Alright, here's the small brief. We're going into Rio to find Alejandro Rojahs. Arms dealer, he supplied the weapons for the Russian Airport Shooting, we find him, maybe we can start trying to figure out what the hell is going on." Chop said.

 

[monique_minx]

She grinned as she looked over the ammo he set down, recognising her own in seconds; she slid the magazines into small pockets along her belt which were designed specifically for it. Kim watched with interest as he explained the use of his glasses and she shook her head with a soft laugh at his little Yank joke.

As he spoke of himself and his family, she nodded though her eyes travelled up and down his form, taking in every aspect of him in minute detail. His weaponry was of particular interest to her, she carried a few flat knives just in case of a scrape but Kimberly worked far better at a distance. As she thought of that, her eyes fell on the weapons case she had set down on the table; she’d yet to assemble it but the thought of merely doing that again was tiring. She could do it in a flash so there was no hurry about it.

Whitfield wasn’t blind to the fact that Chop was looking her over in much the same fashion but she merely kept a small knowing smile on her lips and maintained her silence. It didn’t bother her; she knew before she arrived that there would be a lot of tension about an Australian woman joining the team but she hadn’t known she’d be the only female and as much as she hated to admit it; that did get under her skin just a little.

"Alright, here's the small brief. We're going into Rio to find Alejandro Rojahs. Arms dealer, he supplied the weapons for the Russian Airport shooting, we find him, maybe we can start trying to figure out what the hell is going on."

Kim nodded slowly, her forehead now creased in concentration as she finally got into true ‘soldier mode’ and stopped looking Chop over to consider the task ahead.

“I’ll take a crack and say he’s not easy to find or else he has huge security...” She tilted her head slightly and grinned a little, “...or both. So what do we have to do? Simple interrogation? Deliver him to superiors or what?”

Kim was no novice but she’d been given very little information; it was a bit of a problem with secret operations and quite tiring. But she knew how the game was played as did every soldier; it was the rookies that were in for the rude shocks. A certain level of clearance made most materials available to you; unfortunately that meant you had to be the elected leader of your country...small problem.

Widow’s eyes scanned the other soldiers openly at last, she was checking for assets and liabilities. Her eyes narrowing here and there before she realized something and turned back to Chop, a question was burning into her brain.

“What about these others? I’m assuming you all have something you’re especially skilled in so what is everyone skilled in? I haven’t been fully briefed; a tiny explanation and they stuck me on the next flight out.” She shrugged and gave a slightly embarrassed smile; she was hoping he would understand her.

 

[Bsquad]

Chop noticed Black Widow's apraisal of him and didn't make any bones about it. In fact, he noted that hers was rather less invasive and probing than the one that he, and the rest of the unit had given her. But then you could see male special ops guys fairly easily if you ran in certain circles. The female variety was a rather new creature. Chop ignored the rather uneasy twinge of suprise and saw the rest of the team returning to their checks. For once, the rather vague method to military scheduling showed a slight hint of genius. Instead of having her show up months in advance, and give the rest of the team the chance to focus in on her being a female. Instead, right before a mission they wouldn't have a chance to start getting bothered about it they were too busy getting ready for people trying to kill them.

Chop lifted the ACR as he saw the Yellow shirted Fight Director come into the hangar and hold up two open hands. Ten minutes to lift. Caruthers and the rest of the team made their final checks and started lining up in their fireteams and units.

"Rojas is to be grabbed alive and brought back here for interrogation. He's a link in the chain that goes from Moscow to whoever is responsible for this. MI6 found him, so we need to get him and peel him till we get the info we want. But it should be short and sweet, provided the local militias don't cause too many problems. We snatch Rojas, the Osprey's get us and fly us back to the carrier." Chop said easily, but the fact that twenty two heavily armed, exceptionally trained, and well motivated soldiers were being sent in to grab someone made the posibility of trouble almost as likely as the sun rising tomorrow. But they knew the risks, and they were professionals.

Chop gave his ACR anotehr check, pulling the bolt back slightly for a chamber check before he settled, he was as ready as he'd ever be.

"We've got five teams of four, and two free floaters, Caruthers is in command, I'm second. First team is recon, close assault and capture, they're good, and they've got point on this op. When we hit Rojas as he's on the move, they'll be the ones going for him. Second team is a fireteam, they're the fist, they'll play backup to the move on Rojas. Same as third team, they're fireteam and playing backup. Fourth is scout sniper, they'll be yours after this mission and you get settled, for now though you'll be with me. Fifth is support, medics and com. They usually play reserve since they know how to shoot just fine." Chop said explaining the layout of the unit in a nutshell.

He looked around the hangar at the teams getting ready, first standing there, submachineguns and shotguns ready, looking around calmly. Second, going over their gear as the squad LMG gunner panned his muzzle around. One of the members of Third opening and closing his grenade launcher with heavy clicks. Two of the snipers were sighting in on the far wall...all in all, the team was in that place a person's mind goes to when they're about to face death willingly, and they didn't have time to worry about just who the new girl was on the team.

"Gear up Black Widow, time for the show." Chop said quietly, glancing back to Kim with a nod.

 

[monique_minx]

The moment the 151st were told there were only ten minutes til they took off; you could hear the difference in the room. The men stopped chatting and staring at Kim, they started rustling around with their gear and ensuring everything was in place because each of them knew they would not get a chance later if they’d forgotten anything. It could mean life or death and possibly fucking up the entire mission so each person had to be diligent. Kim turned back to Chop after a quick visual sweep of the changes so that she could take in whatever intelligence he had to give her in the few minutes they had left.

"Rojas is to be grabbed alive and brought back here for interrogation. He's a link in the chain that goes from Moscow to whoever is responsible for this. MI6 found him, so we need to get him and peel him till we get the info we want. But it should be short and sweet, provided the local militias don't cause too many problems. We snatch Rojas, the Osprey's get us and fly us back to the carrier."

Kim nodded mutely and took it in, she frowned slightly as she realized her skills would be relatively useless in this matter unless of course; Rojas had friends in which case she would be allowed to assist. Whitfield snapped back to Chop as he started to speak again.

"We've got five teams of four, and two free floaters, Caruthers is in command, I'm second. First team is recon, close assault and capture, they're good, and they've got point on this op. When we hit Rojas as he's on the move, they'll be the ones going for him. Second team is a fire team, they're the fist, they'll play backup to the move on Rojas. Same as third team, they're fire team and playing backup. Fourth is scout sniper, they'll be yours after this mission and you get settled, for now though you'll be with me. Fifth is support, medics and com. They usually play reserve since they know how to shoot just fine."

Kimberly nodded; it seemed pretty straightforward thus far. She gave her gear one last check to ensure everything was ready, she pulled her Browning from it’s thigh holster and ensured the new full clip was loaded properly before she took the holster off completely and tucked the gun into the waistband at the back of her jeans, pulling her shirt over it. Her larger gun case would easily be mistaken for a musical instrument so she had no troubles with that and her boots were the scruffy kind a construction worker might wear.

"Gear up Black Widow, time for the show."

Kim grinned and nodded in return as she scooped up her large gun case, “No worries mate.” She said sarcastically and winked at him.

She watched as they all prepared to make their way out and Kimberly decided she was best at the back of the line with Chop for the moment. She didn’t like the fact that she was already proving to be something of a distraction to the majority of the team and the rest were almost going out of their way not to look at her or go near her. Kim shrugged; eventually they would have to get used to her and until then; she wasn’t going to pay it any mind.