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winterwandersland · 2 months ago

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NEW STORY ALERT❗️❗️

Echoes of Mercy

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Call of Duty x The 100 x Resident Evil Word Count: 3.7k tw/cw: blood, shooting, self-harm, death After you and your unit were declared MIA two years before, Task Force 141 is assigned another mission, one that could help put a stop to the ongoing epidemic in the United States. The country was suffering and the death toll was rising. Ghost can't help but to think about you, Enyo “Merci” Abara. Merci, is what they called you. Given the name because of your wishful thinking and light that you gave to every soldier you worked with. As a soldier, you were supposed to kill, but you did everything you could to not have to follow that path. But when it came down to it, you made sure your targets didn't suffer, always being thanked for putting an end to their suffering. However, the mission that is supposed to save the world may now give evidence to your unit's last location and that the world may be at greater stakes than first assumed. You are referred to as "Merci" a majority of the time, with minor/rare use of first or last names.

Chapter 1

The day you disappeared was the day Simon Riley broke. That day, both of your units were coming back from a joint operation, tasked with capturing a terrorist, one that used to be your colonel. Your mentor. Your best friend.

Ghost was lucky he wasn’t stripped of his title of Lieutenant after he practically lost his mind when they found out that your plane was nowhere to be found.

Today was the two-year anniversary of you and your team’s disappearance. General Shepherd called a meeting with the 141, the last unit to see you and your team alive. You were supposed to meet at the hospital to rescue your prisoner before detaining her, but you all never showed up.

There was no plane. No bodies. Nothing.

The plane’s tracker was defective. It said you were there. At the landing point on top of the hospital building. But there was nobody there. No one could make sense of it. Not Soap. Not Gaz or Laswell. Not Price. And especially not Ghost.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Simon and you had a deal. You both kept personal trackers on each other to always know where the other was at in case anything ever happened. He knew you’d never take it off. Not without letting him know.

His was kept on the back of his dog tags. You insisted that you should do the same, but he felt that yours should be tailored to you. He knew how much you cared for your hair and tried to keep it healthy even through the dry conditions you all were constantly in. So, he got one that you could use to clip in your hair.

It was easily hidden in your curls, wrapped around your military regulated bun. It just looked like an ordinary clip in your hair and did no damage to the curls that you and Simon cherished.

He should have been able to track you. If the plane's tracker couldn't be located, he should have been able to locate you. He should have been able to find you. If he found you, he’d find your team, but you were the most important to him, at least. If anyone was found, it had to be you. He just hoped that wherever you were, you were granted mercy.

“As you all know, today has officially marked two years since the disappearance of Squadron Eight. I know that this may be a hard day for you all, and I hope that you all have found some peace over these last two years. But as you know, when there has been no trace or any leads of any persons, they must be declared KIA. I hate-,” Shepherd started before being interrupted by a pissed off Lieutenant.

“This is bullshit!” Ghost yelled as he banged his hand on the desk, causing it to shake and startling the rest of the team. “They aren’t dead!”

Laswell was accompanying Shepherd for times like this. Times when she knew Shepherd wouldn’t be able to calm the Lieutenant or any other 141 members who may lose their temper at the news. She motioned her hand at Ghost, letting him know to calm down. You were important to him. While you two never confirmed the relationship, the subtle change to the same home address told Price and Laswell all they needed to know.

“I know that this isn’t the news you all wanted to hear,” Laswell began, witnessing the huff and puff of the Lieutenant. Everyone else did their best to keep their composure, but they were hurting, too, their breaths becoming more drawn out.

Squadron Eight was the only team the 141 would always agree to work with. From the first day the two units worked together, there was instant chemistry. They were just as capable and were the only other unit that could actually keep up with the famous unit.

Most of your squadron were former CIA and FBI members. Others were highly skilled Marine Special Operators and Green Berets. You were one of two Navy Seals. You and the other woman were the only women in the history of the United States ever to become Seals. She was the first and you the second a decade later, but also becoming the first black woman to join..

She trained you and your team. Then there was an accident. She left, joining the United Liberation Army, and that’s when she became a terrorist. Not only the country’s enemy, but yours, too.

But that didn’t matter now because the two people who were bound to be in the history books were now gone to never see themselves in the headlines. Now, the headlines haunted the 141. Even after two years, your name still roamed around, but it lessened more every day.

“But we have done all we can to get a lead on where the plane landed or any whereabouts of the members and their prisoner. There is no trace of anything, not even a boot. We have had surrounding areas searched, but they have come up with nothing. There is no evidence of them being held captive. We have extended this day for as long as we could. I’m sorry, but you all know this is protocol,” Laswell continued as she sent a glare at Ghost.

“So what? We just stop looking for them?” Gaz asked.

“We have exhausted all options. There’s nothing else we can do. I’m sorry,” Laswell said. She could see the hurt in the team’s eyes. Squadron Eight was no more. Now, all they could do was mourn and learn to move on with their lives. “With that being said, we have a mission for you all,” General Shepherd began.

“As you all know, there’s been a viral outbreak that’s been affecting the States. Right now, we consider the situation to be under control. There’s a facility on an island that is housing CDC members who are looking for a cure for the virus. So far, they believe that what they have now could help treat the symptoms. They need you all to deliver it back to the states to be distributed,” Shepherd announced.

“Why does the CDC need a Special Forces team to receive an anti-virus?” Price asked.

“Because you all are the only ones they trust to not use the anti-virus on yourselves before distributing it to the public. It is also a classified mission. No one else knows about this facility. They abandoned the island many years ago and restricted access to only cleared personnel. It’s a simple mission. Nothing too much to handle, as I know this is a hard day for you all. You should be back on base in no time. Wheels up at 1600 hours.”

Ghost stared out the window, watching them pass over the same seas and land that they had when you disappeared. There was still nothing there and if there was, it’d be long gone by now, at the bottom of the ocean or disintegrated into the sand or dirt.

He felt helpless, but he never lost hope that you were still out there, somewhere, dead or alive. One day, even if it was twenty years from now, they would find something that would give him some sort of closure.

The only regret he had from that day was that he didn’t push hard enough to let you all fly in the same plane. There was more than enough room, but Shepherd insisted that it would be best to have two planes in case anything happened to another plane, they’d still have a way out.

He still kept his tracker on him, never taking it off for any mission. Perhaps in the future, he would receive a notification indicating that you were nearby. Maybe you’d see that he was near and you both would find each other again. Maybe your tracker would ping and it’d lead him to your remains to hold and finally say his last goodbyes.

The Captain had some sympathy for Simon. It didn’t take much to see what you and the Lieutenant had no matter how much you two tried to hide it, but with the way the Lieutenant’s eyes softened when he saw you and his rush to urgency whenever you were in trouble, there was no denying what you two had.

Have.

You’re still alive. Right? You have to be because if you aren’t, that means that would be the end of Simon. Simon Riley may have perished when you disappeared, but there was just a sliver of him that held on. A fraction of him that hoped that you were holding onto that piece of him and waiting to restore it once you two were united because that’s what you normally did.

You restored him. Made him feel whole when he believed he was broken because, for some reason, the hardass attitude and mask didn’t scare you like it should have.

It could have been because you were a SEAL. You had to have seen your course of horror over your years, so a skull mask on a gargantuan of a man didn’t phase you.

You two met when you were a recruit, still in training to be a part of the Navy Seals. He had only trained you for a few weeks. You captured his attention from the second he saw you be the only one not complaining from the hours of running you all were doing. While every man at the training camp complained and groaned, begging for the rigorous training to stop, you kept going, only stopping to drink water.

You were the only one that kept going. That was the day he put in a good word for you. Those few weeks of training became hell for you for more reasons than the intense combatant training. You and the Lieutenant became close for circumstances you both wished were different.

When he had to leave, you both kept in contact with each other and soon enough, you were back together again, this time working side by side after you passed your qualifications tests. The light in your eyes was something he’d never forget seeing, and he looked forward to how often he’d be seeing you.

The helicopter ride was silent, only the sound of the propellers and the turbulence of the aircraft filling the depressive quietness. Fourteen hours was a long time. Long enough to recall every bit and piece of what happened the day you vanished.

TWO YEARS EARLIER

It was a day that no one ever saw coming. Squadron Eight was down a colonel, leaving you in charge. The men on your squad didn’t like it, but it was in your colonel’s wishes.

You knew the only place where your colonel, Charmaine Diyoza, would be hiding; with her father. It pained you to have to be the one to capture the woman that trained you and became one of your favorite people in the world. But she had committed unforgivable acts against the government and its citizens. Ones that made her the number one wanted terrorist in the world.

It made you wonder if maybe you would become like her. She trained you, so why wouldn’t you follow the same path? As much as the thoughts hurt to think about, you had a job to do and that was to capture Charmaine Diyoza.

Simon tried to talk you out of it. Said that you could stay back, but you refused. You told him that she had to see you. She had to see the look of betrayal on your face. You wanted to tell her how stupid she was. But you also wanted to tell her how much you still loved her.

“Both units will ride in separate planes, considering you both will be going separate ways once this mission is over,” General Shepherd informed the teams.

“That makes no sense. We can all ride in the same plane and we separate once we touch down on base again,” Ghost said.

“We need to make sure we have a second plane in case Diyoza tries to sabotage one of them. We all know how intelligent she is and she will do anything to escape her fate,” Shepherd responded.

So that was it. Both teams rode in separate planes and, as informed, the mission was capture or kill.

You had had dinners with Diyoza and her father. You all were practically family. He treated you like another daughter. Diyoza was the only other person who knew everything about you. Your home life. The events that took place when she went on leave during training, leaving Ghost to be your Commanding Officer. She was an additional sister. One that you could relate to and be yourself around.

And now, you were hunting her. Searching for her to take her prisoner. All that went through your mind is if you could go through with the plan. Would you be able to take Diyoza prisoner like you were supposed to, or would you let her go?

When you all touched down, it felt surreal. Maybe you could make a plea deal for her or you could talk her down from running again. The more she ran, the worse the situation got. You just wanted it to all stop.

You checked in on Price a few times to make sure he was doing alright. He and Diyoza may not have been together, but they were obviously each other’s person. Both in superior roles and always looking to each other for advice. There was no doubt that there was something else going on with them.

He insisted he was fine, but you had a feeling that wasn’t true. He was hurting just like you.

“You all know the drill. This is capture or kill,” Ghost announced.

Your teams surrounded the house. You caught a glimpse of Diyoza and called out to her. You hoped she would be the one that came out the front door, but instead, it was her father, standing with a shotgun pointed your fellow teammates.

“Don’t shoot!” you yelled out, talking to both your team and Diyoza’s father. “Mr. Diyoza! Put the shotgun down!” you shouted.

Your body was tense, like it had become frozen as your thought about the multiple outcomes of the situation. Everyone had their hand on a trigger and someone was bound to pull it, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come to such events.

“This is what it has come to? You on their side. Really?” her father shouted, obviously speaking to you.

“Charmaine Diyoza must be placed under arrest for the crimes of-,” you began, but there was a shot fired and the teams started shooting towards the front door, sending bullets through the house and shattering the front windows.

“Noooo!” you called out, rushing to the body of Mr. Diyoza. You knelt down and put as much pressure as you could on his wounds, but it was too late. When you put your head up, everyone had their guns aimed at the front door.

You turned your head and saw Diyoza standing at the entryway, tears in her eyes and a knife in her hand.

“Charmaine, listen to me. You just have to come with us, please. It didn’t have to be like this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you pleaded with her.

“Put your guns down! Now!” you yelled at both teams.

They each looked at each other as you gave them pleading eyes. “Please,” your voice cracking and a salty, wet teardrop falling to your lips.

Everyone put their guns down and you stood up, covered in blood, as you slowly approached Diyoza.

“Let’s go, Char,” you said as you inched closer to her.

“You know where they’ll send me,” she told you.

“I know. But we can make a plea deal. Okay? You can plead insanity. It's going to be alright,” you told her.

“You don’t have power over that and you know that. We both know what I need to do,” Diyoza said as she took the knife up to her throat.

“Charmaine, no!” you yelled as you rushed towards her, but again, you were too late. Her body dropped to the ground and blood sprayed all over you. You rushed to her aid, putting as much pressure on Diyoza’s neck as you could, mixing the blood that was already on your hands with hers.

Price came rushing to your side, grabbing anything he could find in the house to keep pressure on the wound. He picked up Diyoza and your team ran to your plane, doing your best to keep her alive.

He placed her on the plane and tried to stay, but you screamed at him.

“Go away!” you yelled, pushing him out of the plane.

“Merci,” he said, his voice softening.

“No! No one needed to die! This didn’t have to happen! Go away!” you continued to yell.

So he left.

Your teams separated, but Price instructed Nikolai to meet you all at the hospital.

But you all never made it.

PRESENT DAY

No one on the team really believed you all were dead and if you were, they hoped it was a quick and painless death. How does a plane vanish into thin air? No one will ever know. But in case they did find you all trapped somewhere, they carried extra food, water, and other supplies on them.

It became handy on missions that lasted longer than they should have, despite the supplies being meant for your team. The extra weight in their rucksacks gave them hope and the day they had to let go of the extra weight would be a devastating day for them.

Simon put all of your favorites in his bag and labeled them to say ‘for Merci’ because without permission, you wouldn’t eat it. You usually never did anything without permission. The first time he let you in his room, you stood until he granted you a spot on the bed. Since then, he’s tried to break you of the obscure compulsions, but they still seemed to linger.

The island started to come into view, its greenery and assumed wildlife. It was beautiful. They understood why only cleared personnel could enter the island, because anyone else would tamper with its beauty. The landing of the helicopter even seemed forbidden, like they were committing a crime to force their aircraft into such a verdant and seemingly serene environment.

From a distance, you could see the CDC building perched on top of a hill some miles away.

“Why couldn’t we land on top of the building?” asked Soap.

“Not a designated landing center,” Price answered.

“Well, neither is this,” Gaz remarked, referring to the random land in the woods that Nikolai landed.

The leaves were still falling from the blow of the propellers, and they circled around the team, creating an eerie presence. The team used their GPS to lead them to the coordinates of the building. Nikolai insisted he would stay in the helicopter until the team came back, keeping track of everyone’s locations.

Winter time was beginning to hit. Simon noticed the breeze that got stronger as they traveled and the cutting of leaves as it brushed across his teammates’ faces, creating minor scratches across their skin. The leaves crunched beneath their feet with each step, making it impossible to keep quiet throughout their travels.

“At least another mile until we reach the facility,” Price announces, keeping his teams’ heads up and giving them hope, even though he knew they’d never give up. Everyone skulked about the woods, tracking anything that moved, though the number of animals lessened as they went into hibernation. The only movement was themselves, the branches that occasionally fell from the trees, and the birds that flocked in the air.

“Is it just me, or does it seem like the birds are watching us?” Gaz asked. It wasn’t the craziest statement he could make. The birds stood on the branches surrounding them, a few straying from the lurking flock.

“They’re crows,” Ghost began, “They do that.”

“Those flying away are mocking jays,” Price said.

“How d'ya know that?” Soap inquired.

Price whistled a tune, a melody from one of his favorite songs. They all stopped in their tracks as they heard the mocking jays repeat the short whistled song. They were enjoying the moment until the flocking of the crows interrupted it, circling the trees and creating a dark shadow above them, and making the men hold their guns up in retreat. But the murder never attacked. Instead, they all flew in the same direction, towards the facility, as if they were being controlled.

“The hell was that?” Ghost blurted out.

“Thought you were the crow connoisseur,” Soap replied.

No one laughed.

The crows’ behavior was absurd, but they brushed it off and headed to the facility that only seemed further the more time they took.

The men’s pace was fast because of their wide gaits. They were in a rush to get home, so they focused solely on getting to the facility. As they edged closer to what was supposed to be a working building, a gust of a putrid stench emerged.

“Fuckin’ hell. Something must’ve died out here,” Ghost commented.

“More like someone,” Gaz said, kicking a pile of decayed flesh and exposed human ribs. They tried to keep their minds off the smell, but it seemed to get stronger the closer they got to the building.

“What do you think could have done that?” Soap wondered.

The smell of rotting flesh that filled their nostrils deeply disturbed them as they approached the building, giving them the sensation that death surrounded them. Before they went into the building, the murder of crows they had seen earlier, massed together over piles of dead bodies and rotting corpses.

Soap questioned, "I thought this mission was supposed to involve retrieving an anti-virus from a CDC facility."

“It is,” Ghost responded.

Soap’s voice became more gruff as he quizzed, “So then, why are we standing in front of an abandoned building on top of a mass grave?”

And there we have it folks. I have finally begun a new story and need to finish the chapter for my other story.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #simon riley cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x black reader #charmaine diyoza #the 100 #resident evil #ghost simon riley #simon riley #reader is black #writing to deflect election voting rn bc omg

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winterwandersland · 25 days ago

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Echoes of Mercy (18+)

Chapter Three: Boot Camp

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k Before the plane crash, you were on a journey to become a Navy Seal. All Parts: Here

The new recruits gradually filled the bus with every passing minute. Each of them looked like little kids excited that they were on a field trip, being in a new environment and taking everything in.

Their eyes were as bright as their smiles, astounding given the sun was barely peeking in the sky, the clouds still creating an overcast, the bus lights creating the only source of light. Everyone conversed like friends, having funny conversations like they were back in high school.

Then there was you.

Sitting in the back of the bus, listening to your music for the last time before your phone and headphones were confiscated. It drowned out the chatter of the rambunctious and excited men and the roaring of the bus engine that you swore was going to break down at any moment.

This should be a fun bus ride.

Your body moved with each bump and pothole of the midwestern streets, you trying to keep all of your weight on the back of your seat, your head hitting the leathered cushion more times than you can count. There’s no way you’d walk off the bus without whiplash.

As your music played, the vibrations of the bus ran through the soles of your shoes, making your legs tingle as you tapped your fingers and swayed to the beat of the music. It felt a little early for the bus to be filled with the smell of must, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as what you would smell after a long day of training in the army. That was a smell that made you want to break your nose and damage your olfactory receptors.

No one spoke to you and if they did, it was just them questioning if you realized where the bus was going and if you meant to go somewhere else, which didn’t make sense considering you were just the only woman on the bus, not in the Navy program.

It didn’t phase you. This is what you prepared yourself for, but hearing the comments out loud hurt more than when you just made them up in your head.

“Hey, Lil Bit!”

Your musical moments of peace were ruined by a tap on your shoe that dangled in the aisle since your legs were crossed. You looked up, your headphones still on, to find a man with a wide grin, his eyes full of curiosity, and a bad buzzcut that you prayed would grow out during his training days for his sake. You didn’t care what the man had to say, but you moved your headphones slightly off of your ear as a courtesy.

“You know where we’re going, right?” he asked with a light and humorous tone, like he was waiting to tell you a joke. He was genuine. Like he really expected you to be so dumb and have accidentally wandered into the military bus taking you to the Navy boot camp while trying to get home.

So, you played along.

You didn’t answer right away. You tilted your head, pretending that you hadn’t heard the question over the blaring of your music. When he repeated the question, you just couldn’t resist.

This should be fun.

“Just a few stops until I get home,” you simply said. The shock in his eyes was priceless. His smile faltered and his eyes turned soft, his brows furrowing.

He really believed you.

“Oh, no, miss. This is the bus to go to- never mind,” he said before yelling, “Stop the bus! This woman’s on the wrong bus! She’s trying to go home!”

You chuckled under your breath, but when he turned back to you, you returned to your concerned, innocent-like face. The man couldn’t be heard over the chattering of all the men, so the bus never came to a stop. Thankfully, it was only another ten minutes until you all came to a stop.

Crazy to believe you were already where you dreamed of being your whole life. But you certainly aren’t smiling because you’re at a military boot camp. You’re smiling because you can finally get pointed in the right direction to go home.

The concerned man walked with you off the bus and immediately took you to the instructor: a woman at least 5'9, much taller than you were.

Her name tag read: Diyoza.

“She accidentally got on the wrong bus,” he urged, yelling and pushing past many of the recruits that were making their way towards the woman. Your heart fluttered as you were face-to-face with the woman you had looked up to for so long. The smile on your face was hard to cover, so you played it off as being appreciative of the man helping you. Diyoza looked at you, looked at the man, then scoffed.

“What’s your name, recruit?” she asked the man. He told her and she checked him off the list before turning to you and asking, “And yours?”

“No, she wouldn’t be on there. She’s trying to get-,” the man with the bad haircut started before being cut off by who you would assume will be your boot camp instructor. “I’m not talking to you!” Diyoza snapped at him.

“Your name, recruit!” she said, her voice more stern, sending chills up your spine like you were in trouble.

“Enyo. Enyo Abara,” you answered quickly, your voice shaky from fearing that you had already fucked up your first impression on the one person you always wanted to impress.

“Beginning of the alphabet. First on the list. Should be easy to remember. Go on, now,” she told you, waving you off like you were just another recruit. And to be fair, you were.

You ran off to join the rest of the group. When the man from earlier tried to follow behind, Diyoza stopped him, firmly placing her hand on his chest. She could practically catch his heart the way it was nearly thudding out of his chest.

The recruit stumbled over his words as he tried to process what had just happened. How was your name on the list?

Diyoza was unamused, practically scowling at the foolish boy. “Next time you see a woman on a bus full of men, don’t assume she isn’t where she should be. Because I promise you, if she didn’t want to be there, she wouldn’t be. And this is a Navy boot camp. Meaning everyone wanting to be in the Navy will be here. Not just the wannabe Seals. Now, go run a mile. You can do your administrative tasks afterwards, “ she commanded him.

He took off running in the opposite direction as the rest of the crew, heading towards the track instead of the main building. You snickered to yourself as you followed everyone into the old building to do your first tasks: paperwork. Your favorite.

You liked signing paperwork. It was no different than when you first enrolled in the military. You had spent a few years in the army before you decided to transfer to the Navy.

It wasn’t difficult filling out the paperwork to transfer services. Your commanding officers supported you every step of the way and even told you they better see you on billboards before back in their field.

The part you worried about the most was the hair inspection. While all the men were getting their heads shaved, you were in the mirror trying to figure out what to do with yours. Should you cut it? You’ve had shorter hair before, but you worked so hard to get it to the length it was now. That would be years of hard work gone.

It’s not like the army didn’t have hair protocols, but they were a little more lenient. Your buns may not have been as laid as you wanted them to be, but they made do. Here, that wouldn’t slide. You had to have the slick bun like you imagined in your head and that would take more effort than basic imagination.

As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, pondering different hairstyles in hopes of passing inspection, you hear footsteps approaching from behind. You snapped your neck to see who it was, but despite what you thought were quick reflexes, they were already by your side.

It was Diyoza.

“Trying to avoid cutting your hair?” she asked. You looked at her confused, not expecting this to be your first actual conversation. Her tone was much different than the one she had used earlier when you first got off of the bus.

“Yea. Don’t really know what to do with it,” you admitted. You had long, luscious coils that you loved and wanted to keep. It was hard enough maintaining them in the army. This would be a whole different beast to tackle, especially considering your new growth.

“Put it in a low bun as tight as you can. If this hat can fit, you’re good,” she advised, while giving you a Navy associated hat. You smiled at her, your form of a thank you. She turned to leave, but you heard that sharp cutting-edge tone she used earlier from behind you as she exited. “Also, if you play ditzy, they’ll believe ditzy. Take that as you will,” she said before closing the bathroom door behind her.

She knew what you did, and you didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or appreciated. But at least thee Charmaine Diyoza noticed you. One point to the scoreboard.

Your arms began to hurt from pulling the scrunchies taut and brushing your hair down. And yet, your bun still wasn’t up to code. You’ll have to cut it.

It’s fine.

You’ve been contemplating going shorter anyways. It’ll save you more time in the morning.

Hopefully.

Diyoza came back into the bathroom ten minutes later, still without a proper introduction even though you already knew who she was. “You figure anything out?” she asked.

You shook your head, a defeated look on your face. You took the scrunchie out of your hair down, releasing the tension on your scalp and your full head of hair falling down your back.

She had a devilish smile on her face as she held up a pair of scissors and approached you with ease. When you saw your hair in between the blade of the scissors, you flinched, pulling your head back and putting distance from the scissors and you, afraid she would start snipping and never stop.

“Your hair is beautiful,” she complimented. “Don’t worry. I think I know how to fix this.”

Her optimistic tone was a welcome change from the one in your head delivering the news about your impending baldness. Although, ‘I think’ didn’t help to ease any of your frustrations and fears.

She takes your hair in sections, carefully snipping each from the ends, her tongue slightly out as she concentrates. You closed your eyes, trying to embrace the image of your naked head in your mind.

Because that’s surely what she's doing.

Giving you a small afro or cutting your hair to a length you hadn’t seen it in since you were a child.

The weight of your hair was heavy, each clump falling on you as it left your head. Your head felt lighter which surely meant you had more hair on your shoulders, lap, and torso than on your scalp.

“Done,” she said, backing away as she admired her work.

When you opened your eyes, you and the floor were covered in hair, its white color now hidden by the dark brown of your hair.

The mirror was your biggest fear. Your biggest enemy.

You analyzed everything in the room before you got a good look at yourself.

And damn did you look good.

You wouldn’t have thought you’d come to boot camp and somehow turn out looking better. That was the opposite of what was supposed to happen. You always heard “the military is not a fashion show”, but you begged to differ at the moment.

There was more volume in your hair and the sections grew gradually longer.

“Layers,” Diyoza said as you admired your new look. “Easier to maintain your hair without having to go bald. Try to put it into a bun, now.” she advised, placing the scissors onto the sink in front of you.

You didn’t add anymore gel and just used what was already in your hair because you were sure to sweat it out later. To your surprise, it was ten times easier to get your bun nice and slick. Your curls even looked better. Some of them naturally fell out of your bun, but they were looped around enough to not cause any trouble.

You had always thought of getting layers in your hair, but you never got around to it–also because you were slightly scared but you wouldn’t admit that. But once you had them, you realized you should’ve done this years ago.

“It looks good. If you had one of the other‌ officers do it, it’d look like a two-year-old cut it,” she joked, earning her a small chuckle from you. “Charmaine Diyoza,” she introduced, holding her hand out for a handshake.

You tried hard not to fangirl, but you couldn’t help yourself. You shook her hand, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head. “Enyo Abara,” you introduced, your smile never leaving your face.

“I know,” she responded.

“I’m honored to work with you. I’ve heard so many great things about you,” you geeked.

She smiled, but quickly returned to her face of commandment. “I could say the same about you. Your former officers had a lot to say about you.”

“Really?” you asked, practically kicking your feet like a child. Your heart was beating so fast and so much blood rushed to your head you thought you may pass out.

“Yes. Like you are the most difficult soldier they have ever had,” she said.

Your smile immediately dropped and you were no longer bouncing up and down like you were before. You could hear the small sigh in her tone before she spoke again, like she recognized that she should become more soft with her tone.

“But, you are also the best soldier they’ve ever had and they wish you the best of luck during your training, though they don’t believe you’ll need it,” she finished.

A faint smile spread on your face, though you weren’t sure if she believed what she said or said it because she felt bad for killing your mood.

Did she believe you were as good as they say? Did she think you could amount to at least a sliver of what she is? Being face to face with the only woman to ever become a SEAL, you started to doubt yourself.

You weren’t of the same stature and you weren’t built the same. You were shorter. Your muscle to fat ratio was nearly equal, your muscle percentage being slightly more. But you were still fast. Quick on your feet. You may not be as thin as Diyoza, but your athletic ability was still there.

When Diyoza left, you stared at your reflection for a few moments. Usually, you never doubt yourself. You always knew you were capable. But being face to face with someone who made history was scary.

What if you weren’t as capable as you thought you were.

What if your delusions ran you too far?

What if this was one thing you simply could not do?

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you saw a future SEAL. Someone who could make history again. You had to do it. You had to make sure your name was remembered.

Your name will be remembered. It had to be.

It was almost time for physical training. You all had gotten your measurements, your uniforms, and had been separated to your barracks. Thankfully for you, other buses had rolled in, meaning you were no longer the only woman in your barracks. But, that wouldn’t matter for long as the training was co-ed.

Before that all started, Diyoza had an announcement:

“Hello, my overzealous and naive recruits. As you may or may not know, my name is Charmaine Diyoza,” she began.

Everyone quieted to hear her speak. You would have thought that the president had walked on stage with the amount of attentiveness that was given. To be fair, Diyoza was quite famous. It was like having your favorite celebrity stand right in front of your eyes.

Everyone was giving her and the other instructors behind her their full attention. Some of them pretended to be just as stoic as the men who stood behind Diyoza and others of them wearing the look of fear on their faces. You could practically smell every drop of sweat that fell down their temples. The nervous recruits fidgeted around, but tried to look nonchalant about it, picking at their nails with their hands behind their backs.

Each instructor eyed every recruit like they already knew who would succeed and who wouldn’t. You dreaded what they may have thought when they looked at you, if they could even see you between all of these men that towered over you, but you tried not to let that cloud what you already knew: you were going to make it through boot camp.

You were going to make it through BUDs training.

You were going to pass all of your qualifications.

You were going to become a SEAL, no matter what.

You had a dream and you were going to make it come true.

While Diyoza spoke, it was like her words sounded distant. Whether it was because of how far back you were or because you felt like everything was a dream, you didn’t know. You moved through the crowd of men, pushing past them with gentle “excuse me”’s every time you had to make physical contact with one of them or they failed to make room for you to move.

The constant movement through the crowd drew the attention of the instructors that stood at attention behind Diyoza. You could hear the beginnings of the murmuring with each person you pushed past, like each of them thought that you had accidentally come from the wrong group.

“What’s all that movement in the crowd back there?” you heard a deep, British voice ask. You couldn’t quite see who said it, but you kept moving, not realizing that they were talking about you. You thought you were being more subtle than you were.

You made your way to the front where the crowd of recruits seemed quiet. A little too quiet. You looked up at Diyoza, waiting for her to speak again, but you didn’t notice every recruit and instructor was looking at you.

“No way.”

“Is she in the right group?”

“She might be lost.”

“Maybe she got confused.”

You heard the constant undermining comments from the crowd behind you. The snickering. The judging. You heard all of it. Yet, you were in the front, watching Diyoza, waiting for the end of her announcement and ready to show them that you aren’t lost, confused, or in the wrong group.

You were in just the right place.

The instructors behind Diyoza whispered to each other. You expected her to say something, but instead, she continued:

“Are you all done?”

The crowd went quiet, along with the instructors behind her. You looked at her attentively, ignoring any lingering stares and murmurs. The soldiers that stood behind her were apparently also going to be your instructors because of how many of you there were. Diyoza explained how she couldn’t and wouldn’t manage all of you on her own. It would be a waste of time.

They were all there to guide you all. Be mentors. They have been through it all, so they would know what was best for you.

You felt a bomb drop on your heart when she announced that she wouldn’t be there for all of your BUDS training. That meant that you wouldn’t get to be with her long. However, she said that she'll be there for those who pass their qualifications. So if you really thought about it, you got at least a year with her.

Because you knew damn well you were going to pass qualifications.

As she completed her speech that was meant to scare everyone off, you took it in, along with the subtle glare that she gave you that said: Prove me right.

Prove to her that you should be there.

Prove to her that you are capable.

Prove to her that you are not just another soldier.

Each of the instructors introduced themselves. There were at least a dozen of them, each from a different specialized unit and others from international elite units. The ones that caught your attention were the ones from the SAS, the British Special Air Service. You always knew them to be some of the best elite forces in the world, if not the best.

They were introduced by their Captain: Captain Price. He stood with his Lieutenant, Ghost, and his two sergeants, Soap and Gaz. While every instructor seemed like a force to be reckoned with, there was something about those four that drew your attention, especially the Lieutenant in the mask. It kind of made you feel like you shouldn’t take them seriously.

Americans never took the British seriously.

But there was no time for that. You were waiting to get placed into a group with one of the instructors so you could get started with your real physical training. They discussed the recruits with each other, each choosing who they wanted to work with. Who seemed to have the most potential based on their recommendations. Who seemed to follow orders the most. Who seemed the most promising. And a long list of other factors that made everyone choose, including how some of you reacted as you were being screamed at by your superiors beforehand.

While they did that, you all ran. And you all ran until you were picked to go with an instructor or two. Before you started, Diyoza called your name, commanding you to give her your water bottle, just like you would at your old base. Your former officers must have told her about that.

Damn them.

The last to pick were the SAS soldiers. Apparently, they had no preference and didn’t care who they had in their group. No matter who you were, you were going to work.

You were the last of a few dozen recruits. While everyone stopped for water, you kept running. Diyoza would call you over every so often to get a drink, making you awkwardly sip your water in front of the very intimidating, but frivolous looking British soldiers.

As you ran back, they continued with their observations.

“What’s her deal?” asked Soap, pointing directly at you while you began another lap around the track.

“First page. First name of the alphabet,” she answered.

Price flipped all the pages of the roster over, finding your name at the very top. “Enyo Abara,” he read.

“Enyo Abara,” Diyoza repeated. “Army transfer. Former cyber operations. Multilingual. Scored a 99 on her ASVAB.”

“A 99? 99th percentile? She doesn’t need to be in the military. She needs to be working with NASA,” Price commented, flipping through the list of the rest of the recruits.

“NASA doesn’t like stubborn, hard headed employees,” Diyoza cut in. “As her former officers put it, she is the sun to your moon. And just like the sun provides light, it can also be a damn pain in the ass.”

“Sounds like that’s right up Ghost’s alley,” Soap jests.

No. It’s not. He hates stubborn recruits. Having to repeat himself just irritated him. At first he had no preference for who he was in charge of. But now he did. He preferred to not have you in his group.

“What’s a kid like that doing in the military,” Price asked, almost immediately feeling like this isn’t the place for you. Stubbornness doesn’t work on the field. To survive you have to cooperate. You have to trust your team. Without that, you’re dead.

Or worse: everyone dies and you don’t.

“According to her interview, she wants to make history. If she’s as good as they say, her stubbornness would have to be tolerated,” Diyoza answered.

She was wary of taking you on, but she always loved a good challenge. Plus, you were the only female on the SEALS track. She knew you needed someone to relate to because it’s what she would’ve wanted. “When she passes-.”

“If she passes,” Soap interrupts.

“When she passes her qualifications, she’ll be the first woman in a decade to become a SEAL. Not to mention, but she’ll be the first black woman to ever become a SEAL. She’s a promising candidate.” Diyoza says, letting them know that she has full faith in you, no matter how much she dreaded having to train you. “Next recruit is-,” she starts, moving on from the discussion of you.

“Woah. Wait. We didn’t decide who’s crew she’s in,” Gaz chimed in. He was tuned in. He may not have spoken much on each recruit, but he processed everything that was said about each one, keeping note of it to see if the file was right or if some superiors had favorites that they gave leniency to.

“We don’t have to. She’s mine. Which means she’s also with Ghost because he’s shadowing me,” Diyoza said, asserting her dominance within the group of men.

“He is?” Soap asked, shocked at the quick decision.

“I am?” Ghost asked, barely knowing what was going on.

He thought he would get a choice like everyone else. But most importantly, he wasn’t into any recruit, and especially not you, for that matter.

You were all just recruits. People whose hearts were bigger than their minds. Most of you wouldn’t make it through BUDS, Basic Underwater Demolition and SEALS training. Whoever did, that’s when he’d care who to choose.

“Yep,” Diyoza said, flipping through the roster, paying no mind to their disgruntled expressions paired with their sighs of irritation. “And her running buddy, Ricky, here,” she said, pointing to the recruit’s picture and name. “Officers said they’re a great pair. Top two performing in their unit. So, we’re taking them,” she commanded, then naming more recruits they were taking and leaving the rest for Price, Soap, and Gaz to decide.

You were relieved when your name was called, along with your friend. Ricky had been with you since you were in the army. He was in your unit. You two were inseparable. He kept you grounded and kept you going. He was the one that convinced you to go the SEALS route when you were doubting yourself. If it wasn’t for him, you’d still be doubting yourself in your army barracks, telling yourself you’d wait until next year when you were ready.

You ran up to the small group of instructors, waiting to see who you were assigned to. To your surprise, Diyoza was your instructor, along with the mysterious SAS soldier in the cloth skull mask, only showing his eyes that could shoot darts through you. You did your best not to pay him much attention, no matter how much he intrigued you, but with his towering figure and enigmatic personality, you couldn’t help but to get in a few glances.

And from there, your boot camp journey began, not knowing that what lay ahead would be everything you never imagined.

I have decided that we will be going on a journey to the past to lead to the present :)

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