This was most definitely not standard operating procedure, although it was what Brad was trained for. Special operations, reconnaissance. In and out. Better than driving around a desert in a humvee, even if the thing was practically his pride and joy. No, this is infinitely better, being able to do what he was trained to do -- being able to utilize his skillset and not wait around for four hours for a fucking translator.
Except, he has no idea what he's after this time, and he's without the rest of his squad, and that already makes him a little uncomfortable. He'd be fine with it if it was completely solo work, even, but when he has to work with an unknown factor, he'd prefer having at least one other person he knows he can rely on.
This unknown factor comes in a red-headed, female flavour. Sort of femme fatale, which makes a smile pull at the corners of Brad's mouth, but he manages to fight it off. He hasn't said much to her yet. They only rendezvoused ten minutes ago, in a dingy hangar where they're supposed to wait for... something. Not knowing frustrates him, but that's how it is sometimes. Some things are just on a need-to-know-basis.
He crouches behind a set of crates, padded knees resting against cement as he waits. It's quiet out here. Whatever they're waiting for, Brad's sure they'll hear it from a mile away. There's nothing else around but sand and dust and the occasional sound of a raptor soaring past, after all.
Brad clicks his tongue, eyeing off his companion. She's sexy, almost appallingly so. Maybe that's why Nate saw fit to assign this job to him -- because the other marines behave like fucking animals at the slightest suggestion of the fairer kind. Retards probably wouldn't be able to keep it in their pants long enough to focus on their mission.
"Am I going to find out what we're here for?" He leans his head back against the crate, closing his eyes for a few seconds before he opens them again, looking at her expectantly.
Being paired with regular grunts wasn't exactly on her wishlist. They lacked the training she had and they had an almost fatalistic need to constantly have an alpha in their midst. Someone they looked up to and took commands from. There was always a very clear hierarchy in the military and it took a specific mindset to be okay with that. Nat wasn't of that mindset. Sure, she took orders from her superiors, but she could and had been paired with other 'alphas' without butting heads. They knew what they were good at, where their skills lay, and they played up to them. With grunts, it was a constant pissing match while measuring their dicks, all while smashing beer cans on their head to prove who was entitled to rule the roost, so to speak.
She'd been told this one had training, but as he was, at the end of the day, a grunt, she was doubtful. But right now, he was all she had, so alienating him right off the bat before she got to see if he'd be any use beyond as target practice wasn't her go-to reaction.
So when he spoke, she slitted her eyes open (having been listening for the approaching stealth copter that hadn't arrived yet), glancing at him and wondering just how nice she felt like being. "Inevitably. How, however, depends on you. What's your skill set, soldier?"
Brad didn't flinch at the word, but only on account of her being a woman. Soldier. If it had been some army fuck trying to talk him down, he might have bristled and snapped back, blue eyes bright and intense as he stared them down. But no, because it was a woman, his drawl was patient rather than snappy.
"Marine, ma'am. U.S. Reconnaissance Marine." She had asked a specific question, though, and so he continued smoothly, the words clearly practiced. "Trained for deep reconnaissance, specifically geared towards stealth. Sneaking behind enemy lines, remaining undetected. Covert missions. Sabotage, rescue, intel. "
His tone was more matter-of-fact than that of a braggart. Given that she had simply lumped him in as a soldier, Brad suspected she didn't particularly care what he was specifically. Practical. He could work with that.
"All of which I've been briefed is what you need."
Being in the dark about things might have been the status quo sometimes, but that didn't mean he liked it.
Ah, right. Marine. She was surprised he'd corrected her so... politely. Most marines she knew would go from zero to fuck you the second they were referred to as what they thought of as 'lesser' than they were. He sounded calm, though. Even with the extra emphasis on the ma'am. Listing off his strong points, she nodded, glad that the powers watching over them had actually picked someone suited to this instead of giving her some wet behind the ears greenie. That he didn't fly off the handle and try to prove himself to her spoke more than most of his resume. He was confident in what he could do, stating it like a fact instead of trying to roll out a list of things to make himself seem like the top dog.
She liked that. "Good. Then you'll actually come in handy here. We've got a stealth inbound, two targets; one living, one not. Target one is a flashdrive with intel that needs to not be spread beyond the damage its already done. Target two is the carrier. Only one needs to be brought in."
He raised an eyebrow, faintly surprised that she had decided to divulge what he had asked for so readily. He had expected some flippant answer on how the info was above his paygrade, or maybe something along the lines of how he was only there to provide support and therefore it didn't matter. As a result, the surprise showed on his face, and for a few seconds he looked quizzical more than anything as he studied her. Then he nodded.
"Yes, ma'am." No extra emphasis on the ma'am this time. He shifted so that he was more comfortably crouched -- he could feel pins and needles beginning to creep in already. "We bring in the carrier. Got it." There was a dry quality to his voice, and he cracked a faint smile.
"If I thought you were even a little bit serious, I'd take you out now just to save you from further embarrassment." The corner of her mouth lifted as she looked over at him before she settled back in her crouch. She took turns flexing and focusing on each muscle group in her body -- like relaxation meditation, only for the purpose of keeping things from falling asleep. She watched him shift, knowing it was likely for the same effect.
Natasha ran on the basis of 'need to know'. She'd hold mission specifics from people she thought might compromise them, but if she felt it would garner full participation, she'd share what was needed. Keeping him in the dark would just breed disdain on his end and there was no way she was having backup she couldn't trust to watch her back. So she'd rather have him a little in the know and happy than ignorant and spiteful.
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Except, he has no idea what he's after this time, and he's without the rest of his squad, and that already makes him a little uncomfortable. He'd be fine with it if it was completely solo work, even, but when he has to work with an unknown factor, he'd prefer having at least one other person he knows he can rely on.
This unknown factor comes in a red-headed, female flavour. Sort of femme fatale, which makes a smile pull at the corners of Brad's mouth, but he manages to fight it off. He hasn't said much to her yet. They only rendezvoused ten minutes ago, in a dingy hangar where they're supposed to wait for... something. Not knowing frustrates him, but that's how it is sometimes. Some things are just on a need-to-know-basis.
He crouches behind a set of crates, padded knees resting against cement as he waits. It's quiet out here. Whatever they're waiting for, Brad's sure they'll hear it from a mile away. There's nothing else around but sand and dust and the occasional sound of a raptor soaring past, after all.
Brad clicks his tongue, eyeing off his companion. She's sexy, almost appallingly so. Maybe that's why Nate saw fit to assign this job to him -- because the other marines behave like fucking animals at the slightest suggestion of the fairer kind. Retards probably wouldn't be able to keep it in their pants long enough to focus on their mission.
"Am I going to find out what we're here for?" He leans his head back against the crate, closing his eyes for a few seconds before he opens them again, looking at her expectantly.
no subject
She'd been told this one had training, but as he was, at the end of the day, a grunt, she was doubtful. But right now, he was all she had, so alienating him right off the bat before she got to see if he'd be any use beyond as target practice wasn't her go-to reaction.
So when he spoke, she slitted her eyes open (having been listening for the approaching stealth copter that hadn't arrived yet), glancing at him and wondering just how nice she felt like being. "Inevitably. How, however, depends on you. What's your skill set, soldier?"
no subject
"Marine, ma'am. U.S. Reconnaissance Marine." She had asked a specific question, though, and so he continued smoothly, the words clearly practiced. "Trained for deep reconnaissance, specifically geared towards stealth. Sneaking behind enemy lines, remaining undetected. Covert missions. Sabotage, rescue, intel. "
His tone was more matter-of-fact than that of a braggart. Given that she had simply lumped him in as a soldier, Brad suspected she didn't particularly care what he was specifically. Practical. He could work with that.
"All of which I've been briefed is what you need."
Being in the dark about things might have been the status quo sometimes, but that didn't mean he liked it.
no subject
She liked that. "Good. Then you'll actually come in handy here. We've got a stealth inbound, two targets; one living, one not. Target one is a flashdrive with intel that needs to not be spread beyond the damage its already done. Target two is the carrier. Only one needs to be brought in."
no subject
"Yes, ma'am." No extra emphasis on the ma'am this time. He shifted so that he was more comfortably crouched -- he could feel pins and needles beginning to creep in already. "We bring in the carrier. Got it." There was a dry quality to his voice, and he cracked a faint smile.
no subject
Natasha ran on the basis of 'need to know'. She'd hold mission specifics from people she thought might compromise them, but if she felt it would garner full participation, she'd share what was needed. Keeping him in the dark would just breed disdain on his end and there was no way she was having backup she couldn't trust to watch her back. So she'd rather have him a little in the know and happy than ignorant and spiteful.