#the KorTac symbol is a wolf

[theartgremlin]

wolf!König and wolf!Peggy!!! Peggy wandered outside the KorTac pack’s territory and into Specgru territory while she was playing, but she doesn’t know. And of course, having a gigantic, scary Papa who comes snarling to the rescue every time has given her some serious false confidence. König needs to teach his tiny pup some manners.

German translation (via. Google translate, sorry!):

“I apologize for my pup’s behavior. But threaten her again, and we will have your liver for our dinner.”

@demothers-empty-blog I’m sorry it took me so long, but here’s that König and Peggy content I promised <333

[multifandomimagin3s]

The Mercenary

A/N: So I received a lot of requests for a fic based on my Mercenary!Reader headcanons post, it's a bit short and sweet but I hope you guys like it ~

Warnings: Violence and strong language - am I making the reader basically a female deadpool? probably.

The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Price struggled to contain his anger as he peered at the screen in front of him, seeing Laswell was in a similar state herself. General Shepard continued, undeterred by their visible annoyance;

"I have hired someone who I know will help to get the job done," He drawled," They're efficient and while they may come from a questionable background, I can't afford for any more failures, Captain."

Price could feel his blood begin to boil - it was practically a direct insult to him, and to his taskforce. Since when did his team need any help to get a job done, and done right? It was practically a slap in the face.

"Sir, I understand your concerns - but is contracting a mercenary really the best solution for this?" Laswell interjected, " The last mission gave us valuable intel, we have leads on a few of Hassan's associates, I don't understand why we need to hire them when 141 have shown that they're more than capable of handling things as a unit."

"Granted that is true - but I'm not taking any chances here," Shepard gruffly retorted. For whatever reason, he really was dead set on contracting this Mercenary. Naturally, it made Price more than suspicious as to what his motives were.

"Captain," Price bit the inside of his cheek, as his eyes all but burned through the webcam at his Superior," The Mercenary will be touching down on base tomorrow, with an ETA of 12 hundred hours - see to it that they're debriefed on the mission before extraction."

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"There's no picture here," Laswell flipped through the pages in the manilla file," Wait - there's one... but all the faces are blurred out..."

"Hm," Price folded his arms over his chest," Must mean that whoever Shepard hired must be considered dangerous enough to warrant that kind of secrecy..."

"There's 10 people in this photo - he could have hired any of them," Laswell separated the pages, spreading them across the table top," All we have is their callsign, not much else to go on..."

Price hummed. It wasn't unlike Shepard to only give out information he deemed "necessary" - whatever he chose to not disclose at the time usually came as a surprise after the fact, and typically it wasn't pleasant.

"I haven't seen this symbol before," Laswell turned the paper to face Price; there were two logos printed in stark black and white - one being the signature wolf emblem seen on KorTac operatives, and the other appearing to be some species of snake, gaping mouth open with sharp fangs prepared to strike.

"Serpentes," Price clicked his tongue," They're a subsidiary of KorTac, haven't seen any of their operatives in the field in nearly a decade."

"Why would Shepard hire from KorTac?" It was basically a rhetorical question and the both of them knew that. Shepard kept his cards close to his chest - his half-arsed excuse didn't sit well with either of them but the more they pushed the General, the further away they would get from finding out the actual truth.

"Haven't the foggiest," Price sighed, scratching his chin," But whoever he's hired, they better not be a fuckin' nutter."

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You didn't expect to be 'best of buds' with the Task Force upon your first interaction with them - with everything you've heard about 141 from Shepard, and from your team-mates, you weren't anticipating the warmest of welcomes either. But it didn't put you off any - you'd been hired to work with them, so if you were to kill each other before you even got out onto the field, then what good would that be?

As soon as the hatch door of the helicopter opened, you were greeted by the sight of a bearded man dressed in the standard khaki army uniform - if you excluded the bucket hat on his head. You had to admit he was quite handsome - but you weren't so stupid as to let that drop your guard, especially when in a foreign area.

You swung your duffel bag over your shoulder, descending down the ramp towards him. His eyes flickered across the mask adorning your face, as if trying to burn through the material and see the face beneath. It was a natural response, you thought - even though you were dressed in what would equate to 'skivvys,' the fact he didn't know what you looked like and definitely didn't know your name was probably setting off alarm bells in his head.

"Captain Price," He grunted with a tight-lipped smile, holding his hand out for you to shake as if it pained him," And you must be the Mercenary."

"Yep," You replied, in a tone that was just a bit too chipper for his liking," Call me 'Copperhead."

"Like the snake? Very fitting."

"Yeah, well - we tried 'Black Mamba' and 'Australian Brown Snake' but the first sounded a like a sex toy, and the latter was too long."

Price almost choked on his own spit. It was kind of amusing to watch the man splutter to find the right words - if you were in his ranks you probably would have been scolded a bit for that, but you weren't.

"Right, well," He was quick to recompose himself but didn't meet your eyes," Follow me - the team are awaiting your arrival for a debrief on the mission."

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As soon as you stepped into the meeting room, three pairs of eyes locked onto you. You stuck out a bit like a sore thumb in comparison to the rest - the casual uniform for your regiment was a deep burgundy top, not unlike the military's, but paired with burgundy cargos with gold trims on the pockets.

"Boys, this is 'Copperhead," Price nodded to the group whilst keeping a slight distance between you both. You felt like rolling your eyes but restrained yourself - as if you'd kill him in his own territory when on payroll," Copperhead - Sergeant Gaz Garrick; Sergeant Soap MacTavish; Lieutenant Ghost."

Garrick and Soap seemed to practically lounge in their chairs, giving you a brief nod in recognition as their names were called. Their eyes were trained on you the entire time, showing that despite how relaxed they appeared, they absolutely hadn't let their guard down.

Ghost shifted slightly in his chair, dark eyes burning through the eyeholes of his mask. His posture was practically poker-straight, arms folded across his chest - he was clearly sizing you up.

"Copperhead? What's the craic there?" Soap enquired - he too had an unusual call sign, as he'd been told many times over the years.

"Hey, I got lucky - some poor fucker ended up with milk snake," You replied, dumping your duffel next to the door," Was a choice between Copperhead or Diamond Back for a while - both were a good fit but Copperhead stuck."

"Diamond back?" Gaz enquired with a confused expression.

"Because I have an amazing arse." Soap and Gaz snorted a laugh. Ghost, however, appeared to be unamused - well, it was hard to tell what he was actually feeling considering you couldn't see his face. But the gruff "fuckin' 'ell" told you what you needed to know. You smirked under your mask - he was going to be the most fun to wind up.

"Alright - enough of the pleasantries," Price interjected, coming to stand at the end of the room," Let's get to what we're all here for - the mission."

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"So, the uniform," Soap enquired, leaning back slightly in his chair as he gestured to your clothing," Is that to go with the name or is that just standard issue for you lot?"

It was quite strange as to how quickly he started to try and make idle chat with you - while his comrade Gaz seemed to similarly be relatively relaxed in your presence, he still aired on the side of caution.

"Bit of both," You shrugged," Different uniforms for different missions - the red and gold is pretty much standard, goes with that old saying that people use to identify potentially dangerous snakes."

He looked at you perplexed. Ghost's deep voice piped up, and you noted how he rolled his eyes - whether that was directed at you or his comrades, you weren't entirely certain: "Red touches yellow - kill a fellow."

"Makes sense, you know," You half-hazardly gestured to the snake emblem plastered to your outer bicep," It;s kind of poetic, right? Although, it does also kind of give McDonalds vibes - good thing the tactical suits are less ugly."

"You're out on the field to kill - it's not a bloody fashion show," Came Ghost's blunt reply.

You smiled widely, eyes crinkling at the corners," Just 'cause I'm splattering people's brains across the wall doesn't mean I can't look sexy doing it - and trust me, I do."

"I couldn't give less of a fuck if you looked like Margot fuckin' Robbie under that mask," You could tell his blood pressure was rising by the second and it made you want to kick your feet in glee," You're a Mercenary and quite frankly it doesn't matter how good you are, if you get in the way or try and betray us, I'll take you out myself."

There was a beat of silence. Now, any other soldier would have probably curl up into a ball after having been gutted out by the Lieutenant - any normal person would have practically pissed themselves at the sheer sight of him. Soap and Gaz's eyes flitted between their comrade and you, as if torn between being engrossed in the dynamic between you both and preparing for Ghost to actually strangle you.

"Wow - have only known you for five minutes and you're already talking dirty to me," You cooed in a slightly mocking tone," You work fast, Ghost."

"Shut the fuck up, you tit -"

"When you said you'd take me out - did you mean with a sniper or like on a date? Because hey, we can see how the mission goes, I'm game for either -"

"I swear to fucking god-!!"

"Mission debrief is over!" Price boomed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb," Soap - take Copperhead to their room, and all of you get the fuck out of here, now."

The room fell into complete silence, as Soap got up to escort you off to wherever on the base they'd decided would be fit for you. You sent a wink to Ghost's agitated form, chuckling as you picked up your duffel," Look forward to working with you, Dream Team."

Soap shook his head, fighting the smile about to crawl onto his face. He could feel the eyes of both his superiors burning into the back of his skull. He was no fool, and he knew that despite how jovial you seemed, you were a trained killer. So he wouldn't be letting you get too close to him.

Gaz left shortly after you and Soap made your swift departure. Ghost stared at the door, as if trying to shoot lasers through it and down the corridor to where you were.

"Lieutenant - a word?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I want you to keep a close eye on that one," Price spoke lowly, as if you could hear through walls.

Ghost gritted his teeth at the prospect of having to work alongside you. As far as he was concerned, you were a massive pain in the arse and the fact that you couldn't be trusted just gave him all the more reason to dislike you.

"I've already read through their file - not much information, Laswell's working on it, but what's there is more than enough to make you watch your six."

"Affirmative, sir."

"As you know, pick-up is at 0600 tomorrow - until we know more about the Mercenary, we can't take any chances," Price shook his head in thought," God knows why Shepard hired them... if they're as dangerous as their file says, then we have our work cut out for us."

Thank you guys for reading! ~