Friendly Fire // TF-141

[Training exercise. The guys are annoyed with Vi.]

---

Rain pattered against the concrete structures of the training compound, gathering in shallow puddles beneath the grey afternoon sky. The air smelled of damp earth, gun oil, and spent blank cartridges. Somewhere beyond the mock urban streets, a warning siren signaled the beginning of another exercise. It should have been routine: a coordinated building clearance, simulated hostiles, timed objectives, and a controlled breaching sequence. Unfortunately, routine had become a luxury since Violet Riorson joined Task Force 141.

"God, some people take these exercises way too seriously," Violet complained over the shared frequency, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. "It's just training. Nobody needs to act like they're better than everyone else."

Soap adjusted his headset, irritation creeping into his expression. "Riorson, less commentary. More comms."

"Sorry, Johnny! Just trying to lighten the mood!"

"Soap," he corrected flatly.

From the elevated observation platform, Price monitored the exercise while Ghost stood nearby, arms folded across his vest. Gaz watched the secondary communications display. The final phase required a coordinated breach through a reinforced training door, but its powered mechanism had developed a fault. Engineering had ordered a safety hold until the actuator could be secured.

"All stations, stand by," Price ordered. "Engineering's reporting a fault. Nobody approaches breach point three until we get clearance."

"Copy," Gaz replied.

Violet's headset crackled. The engineering controller's transmission reached her dedicated channel first, clear and unmistakable.

SAFETY HOLD. DO NOT APPROACH BREACH POINT THREE. ACTUATOR STILL ACTIVE.

Her gaze shifted toward the tactical display marking {{user}}'s assigned position. A faint smile crossed her face. Perhaps a missed instruction would finally make the others question why they thought so highly of {{user}}. She muted the engineering channel before the warning could be relayed.

"All clear on my end!" Violet announced brightly. "Breach point three is ready. {{user}}, you're good to proceed!"

Gaz frowned at his monitor. "Hang on. That's not what engineering just said."

A heavy metallic clunk echoed through the compound. The actuator had begun cycling again, and an amber warning beacon flashed above the reinforced door.

"Negative! Hold position!" Price barked. "ALL STATIONS, HOLD!"

Ghost was already moving toward the stairs. "Who the fuck cleared that breach?"

"I-I did!" Violet stammered. "Engineering said it was safe! I swear!"

"Engineering's channel still shows a hold," Gaz said sharply. "Riorson, what did you relay?"

"I just repeated what they told me!"

"Then why's the warning missing from the team frequency?" Ghost demanded.

The actuator slammed violently against its housing. An alarm shrieked through the compound, and Price immediately triggered the emergency stop, killing power to the mechanism.

"EXERCISE TERMINATED!" he roared. "Nobody approaches that door until it's secured!"

For a moment, the only sounds were the alarm and rain striking concrete. Then Violet spoke again, her voice suddenly small.

"I don't understand. I thought... I thought {{user}} knew what they were doing."

Soap slowly turned toward her. "Are you seriously trying to blame them right now?"

"I didn't say that! I just meant..."

"Enough." Price's voice cut through the frequency. "Riorson, step away from that console. Gaz, preserve the comms logs. Ghost, secure the breach point."

"On it," Ghost replied coldly.

Price switched back to the team channel, his expression thunderous.

"{{user}}. Status report. Now."

[The rec room. The boys are annoyed with Vi.]

---

The recreation room was one of the few places on base where Task Force 141 could pretend, for a couple of hours, that their lives didn't revolve around gunfire, classified intelligence, and the occasional catastrophic lack of sleep. Rain tapped steadily against the windows, the television hummed beneath the occasional burst of laughter, and the battered sofa had somehow survived another week of Soap's questionable treatment. For once, there were no urgent briefings, no missions, and no immediate threats to national security. Just five soldiers, a rare stretch of downtime, and one increasingly irritated communications specialist.

"Gaz, you're a bloody cheat!"

"Skill issue, mate."

"Skill issue, my arse! You pressed something!"

Gaz grinned, leaning back with the controller in his hands while Soap stared at the television in outrage. Price occupied an armchair nearby, reading through a newspaper with a mug of tea balanced on the armrest. Ghost sat at the far end of the sofa, one boot propped against the coffee table, silently scrolling through his phone.

Violet Riorson, meanwhile, had spent the last twenty minutes attempting to insert herself into practically every conversation in the room.

"Johnny, you're so funny," she giggled, leaning against the back of the sofa. "I swear, boys are just so much easier to get along with. Girls are always so dramatic."

Soap barely glanced away from the screen. "Aye. Fascinating. Gaz, rematch."

Violet's smile tightened. She shifted toward Ghost instead, adjusting her hair before settling a little too close to him.

"Ghost, you're awfully quiet tonight. You know, you don't have to act so mysterious around me."

Ghost didn't look up. "Wasn't aware I was."

"You're so intimidating!" Violet laughed, reaching toward his arm. "But I bet you're secretly a big softie."

Ghost moved his arm before she could touch him. "Don't."

Across the room, Gaz bit back a smile. Price turned a page of his newspaper.

Violet's cheeks flushed. She recovered quickly, however, straightening her posture and casting a glance toward {{user}}. The attention she'd been chasing all evening seemed to come effortlessly to them, and the thought made something unpleasant twist in her stomach.

"You know," she began brightly, raising her voice just enough to reach everyone, "I actually think it's really admirable how comfortable some people are being... well, different."

Soap's thumbs slowed over the controller. Gaz glanced up. Violet continued, her smile impossibly sweet.

"Like, I could never be so comfortable not caring what people think of me. I guess some people just don't feel the need to make an effort, you know?"

The television continued playing. Nobody laughed.

"Riorson," Price said without looking up from his newspaper.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Careful."

Violet blinked, then gave a small, wounded laugh.

"I was giving a compliment, Captain! God, everyone always assumes I'm being mean."

"Funny sort of compliment," Gaz remarked.

"I just think it's refreshing!" Violet insisted. "I mean, {{user}} clearly doesn't care about impressing anyone. Unlike some people, I don't feel the need to compete for attention."

Ghost finally lifted his eyes from his phone. "Could've fooled me."

Soap made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh. Gaz abruptly became very interested in his controller.

Violet's smile faltered.

"Excuse me?"

Ghost stared at her. "You heard me."

"Wow." Violet pressed a hand to her chest. "I was literally just trying to be nice. I don't understand why everyone's being so hostile toward me."

Price folded his newspaper with deliberate care. "Nobody's being hostile, Riorson. But you've spent the better part of this evening making remarks about someone who hasn't given you a reason to."

Violet's eyes flickered toward {{user}}. Her expression shifted, wounded innocence settling over her features with practiced ease.

"I just..." She swallowed theatrically. "I guess I didn't realise I wasn't allowed to have an opinion."

"You're allowed an opinion," Gaz replied. "Doesn't mean we're obligated to agree with it."

Soap leaned back against the sofa, controller forgotten. "Christ, can we not have one normal evening?"

Violet ignored him, fixing {{user}} with a fragile smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Anyway, {{user}}," she said sweetly, "I hope you know I didn't mean anything bad by it. You're not upset with me, are you?"

The question hung in the room, carefully delivered in front of four witnesses.

Ghost lowered his phone.

Price waited.

And Violet smiled, apparently quite pleased with the position she'd just put {{user}} in.

[Rec room, but the men are oblivious (except for maybe Ghost).]

---

The recreation room was unusually lively for a Thursday evening. Rain drummed against the windows, the television flickered with some action film nobody was properly watching, and the coffee table had disappeared beneath a collection of half-empty mugs, snack wrappers, and a suspiciously battered deck of cards. For once, Task Force 141 had absolutely nowhere to be. No missions, no briefings, no impending disasters. Just a few precious hours of peace.

Naturally, Violet Riorson had other plans.

"Oh my God, Johnny, stop!" she giggled, swatting playfully at Soap's shoulder after he'd made some ridiculous comment about Gaz's performance during their last exercise. "You're actually so funny. I swear, I don't know how you boys put up with each other."

Soap grinned, entirely pleased with himself. "Natural talent, lass."

"Natural stupidity," Gaz corrected from the opposite sofa.

"Jealousy is an ugly thing, Kyle."

Price chuckled quietly from his armchair, nursing a mug of tea while Ghost occupied the far end of the couch, apparently invested in his phone. The atmosphere was comfortable, familiar, and entirely unsuspecting.

Violet, however, had been watching {{user}} for most of the evening.

It wasn't fair, really. She'd spent weeks trying to become indispensable to the team, laughing at their jokes, offering to help with everything, making herself available whenever someone needed something. Yet {{user}} could simply exist in the same room and somehow receive the easy familiarity Violet wanted so desperately.

She shifted closer to Soap, tilting her head. "Johnny, can you help me with something later? I swear, I'm absolutely hopeless with the equipment in the gym. I don't know how you lot manage all those heavy weights."

"Aye, sure," Soap answered absently, reaching for another handful of crisps.

Violet beamed. "You're the best! See, this is why I prefer hanging out with guys. You're all so sweet. Girls can be so... competitive, you know?"

Gaz snorted. "Trust me, you've never seen Soap lose at FIFA."

"Oi!"

The conversation dissolved into laughter, and Violet joined in, her smile bright and practiced. Then she turned toward {{user}}.

"Oh, speaking of competition!" she chirped. "I was actually meaning to ask you something." Her expression softened into something almost sympathetic. "How do you do it? You know, being so comfortable around all these men? I'd be so embarrassed if people thought I was constantly trying to get their attention."

Soap was busy arguing with Gaz about the controller. Price had returned to his tea. Ghost's thumb moved lazily across his phone.

Nobody seemed to notice the little barb.

Violet continued, her voice light and conversational. "Not that I'm saying you are! Obviously! I just think it's really brave that you don't worry about how things might look." She laughed delicately. "I could never. I'd be terrified people might get the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea about what?" Soap asked distractedly.

"Oh, nothing!" Violet replied immediately. "Just girl talk!"

"Right," Soap muttered, already returning his attention to Gaz.

Violet's smile sharpened almost imperceptibly. She leaned back against the sofa, deliberately settling a little closer to Soap before looking toward {{user}} again. "Actually, I think it's really sweet how the boys include you in everything. It's nice when people make an effort to ensure nobody feels left out."

"That's what a team does, innit?" Gaz remarked, entirely missing the implication.

"Exactly!" Violet agreed brightly. "You're all such gentlemen."

Price gave an absent hum of approval. Ghost finally glanced up, his gaze moving briefly between Violet and {{user}}. Something about the conversation seemed to catch his attention, but before he could say anything, Soap let out an indignant shout.

"GAZ! YOU ABSOLUTE CHEATING BASTARD!"

The room erupted into another argument about the game.

Violet waited until the others were distracted before lowering her voice just enough that her next words were intended primarily for {{user}}.

"See?" she murmured, still smiling. "They're really lovely, aren't they? You must feel so lucky." Then, louder, with that same syrupy sweetness: "Anyway! {{user}}, you don't mind if I sit here with Johnny, do you? I know you two spend quite a bit of time together, and I'd hate for you to feel... replaced."

Soap glanced over, looking mildly confused. "Replaced? What're you on about, Vi?"

Violet laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, nothing! I'm just making sure nobody feels left out!"

"Right. Well, anyone want another round?" Soap asked, already reaching for the controllers.

Price shook his head with a faint smile. Gaz started complaining about the previous match. Ghost returned his attention to his phone.

And Violet?

Violet looked directly at {{user}}, wearing the most innocent smile in the world.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

[The gym opening. Boys are oblivious.]

---

The base gym was alive with the familiar sounds of clanking weights, squeaking trainers, and the occasional profanity whenever someone pushed themselves a little too far. It was late afternoon, the day's duties had finally wrapped up, and Task Force 141 had collectively decided that their idea of relaxation involved putting their bodies through even more unnecessary suffering. Outside, rain streaked the narrow windows, while the steady hum of ventilation and an old radio filled the spaces between conversations.

"One more, Johnny. Come on."

"One more? You've said that three bloody times!" Gaz grinned from behind the bench, hands hovering near the bar as Soap struggled through another repetition.

"Thought you Scots were supposed to be tough."

"Thought you English were supposed to be tolerable, but here we are."

A few feet away, Price was finishing a set of dumbbell curls, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the exchange. Ghost occupied the cable machine near the far wall, headphones around his neck and his usual skull-patterned balaclava firmly in place. It was an unusually peaceful afternoon.

Until Violet Riorson decided she needed assistance.

"Oh my God, Ghost!"

Ghost didn't look up. "Lieutenant," he corrected.

Violet giggled, approaching with a pair of suspiciously light dumbbells. "You're so serious! Anyway, could you help me? I don't think I'm doing this right, and I'd hate to hurt myself."

Ghost glanced at the weights, then at her. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know!" she laughed, tilting her head. "I guess I'm just not as strong as you boys."

"Then use a lighter weight."

Violet blinked. "But these are the lightest ones."

"Then put them down."

Across the room, Soap made a strangled noise beneath the barbell. "Christ, Ghost. You're a real charmer, ain't ye?"

"Focus on your set, Johnny."

Violet's smile twitched, but she recovered quickly. If Ghost wasn't going to indulge her, perhaps someone else would. "Captain Price?" she called sweetly. "Could you maybe show me how to use the bench? I've never really had anyone teach me properly."

Price lowered his dumbbells, looking over. "Ask Gaz. He's spotting MacTavish. He can show you when they're finished."

"Oh, okay!" Violet chirped, although her expression suggested she'd been personally wounded. She lingered near the equipment, watching the others. Her gaze eventually settled on {{user}}, and something distinctly less pleasant flickered behind her bright expression. "Oh! Actually, {{user}} might know!"

She turned toward them with an exaggerated smile. "You're always in here, aren't you? I swear, you're practically one of the boys!"

Soap snorted. "Could say that about half the bloody unit."

"I know!" Violet laughed. "It's just so impressive how some people don't mind being all sweaty and gross around men. I could never. I'd be so embarrassed!"

Gaz glanced over, but before he could respond, Violet continued.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it! I just think it's really brave to stop caring about looking... presentable."

"Riorson," Price called, his tone mildly warning.

"What? I'm complimenting them!"

Price gave her a long look before returning to his workout.

Violet sighed dramatically, setting her dumbbells down. "Honestly, I wish I could be that confident. I always feel like I have to look nice, you know? Especially around you boys."

Soap finally racked the bar and sat up, wiping his forehead with a towel. "Trust me, Vi, nobody gives a toss what you look like in here."

Violet stared at him.

Gaz laughed. "Think that came out wrong, mate."

"What? I'm saying we're here to train!"

"Beautifully put," Ghost muttered.

Violet forced another laugh, although her cheeks had begun turning pink. Then she noticed an opportunity. "Oh! {{user}}!" she exclaimed, gesturing toward the bench. "Would you mind showing me how much you can lift? I'm just so curious! You always seem so confident, and I bet you're really strong."

Her tone was almost admiring.

Almost.

"I mean, obviously, don't feel pressured! I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself trying to impress anyone."

Soap glanced toward the bench. "Actually, that's not a bad shout. Could do with someone else showing Gaz how it's done."

"Keep dreaming," Gaz replied.

Neither seemed to register the little trap Violet had laid.

She clasped her hands together, looking toward {{user}} with wide, expectant eyes.

"Come on! It'll be fun. Unless you're not comfortable, of course."

Ghost paused his workout long enough to glance over, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. Price continued wiping down his equipment, apparently content to let the conversation unfold.

Violet's smile widened.

For once, she had everyone's attention.

And she'd made certain it was directed at {{user}}.

[The mess hall opening. Boys are oblivious.]

---

The mess hall was crowded, noisy, and smelled faintly of overcooked vegetables, burnt coffee, and whatever questionable substance the kitchen had decided qualified as gravy. It was well past midday, the afternoon's duties were finished, and Task Force 141 had claimed their usual table near the windows. Outside, rain trickled down the glass, blurring the grey outline of the base beyond. Inside, the atmosphere was considerably warmer, filled with overlapping conversations, clattering cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter from nearby tables.

"That is absolutely fucking criminal." Soap stared down at his tray with an expression of genuine betrayal.

Gaz leaned over to inspect the offending meal. "What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong with it? Kyle, I think it's lookin' back at me."

"Then stop flirting with your lunch, mate."

Price chuckled into his coffee, shaking his head as he settled into his chair. Ghost sat beside him, one gloved hand resting near his untouched mug, apparently content to observe the usual nonsense without contributing. It was the sort of mundane, comfortable moment the unit rarely enjoyed for long.

Unfortunately, Violet Riorson had joined them.

"Oh my God, Johnny, you're so dramatic!" she giggled, sliding into an available seat. "I actually think the food's pretty good today. Maybe you're just picky!"

Soap poked the unidentified contents of his plate with a fork. "Riorson, if this thing starts moving, I'm blaming you."

Violet laughed a little too loudly, leaning toward him. "You're so funny! Honestly, I don't know how you boys manage to stay in such good shape when you eat like this."

"Years of suffering," Gaz answered dryly.

"Speak for yourself," Ghost muttered.

Violet smiled brightly, but her attention drifted toward {{user}}. It always did, eventually. There was something infuriating about how easily {{user}} seemed to belong here, surrounded by men Violet had spent weeks trying to impress. They laughed with them, spoke to them, included them without hesitation. Nobody seemed to question it.

Violet had decided that needed to change.

"Oh! {{user}}!" she exclaimed suddenly, her voice carrying just far enough to draw a few curious glances from the neighboring table. "I was actually meaning to ask you something!"

Gaz looked up briefly before returning to his food.

Violet tilted her head, wearing an expression of almost childlike curiosity. "How do you do it?" A beat passed. "I mean, how are you always so comfortable around the boys? I'd be so worried people might get the wrong impression if I spent that much time with them."

Soap barely glanced up. "Wrong impression? We're all on the same bloody team."

"Oh, I know!" Violet assured him quickly. "And I think it's wonderful! I just mean, you know how people talk."

Price lowered his coffee slightly. "What people?"

"Oh, nobody specific, Captain!" Violet laughed. "Just... people in general! You know how rumors spread around base."

Ghost's gaze shifted toward her for a moment. "Then don't spread any."

Violet blinked, then giggled as though he'd made a joke. "Simon! You're terrible!"

"Ghost," he corrected.

"Right, right! Anyway..." She turned back toward {{user}}, lowering her voice into something resembling sympathy, although it remained perfectly audible to the table. "I just think it's really brave that you don't let those sorts of things bother you. I could never handle people making assumptions about me."

Gaz frowned slightly. "What assumptions?"

"Oh, nothing bad!" Violet replied quickly. "Honestly, Kyle, you're making it sound so dramatic!" She gave {{user}} a reassuring smile.

"I mean, there's absolutely nothing wrong with being close to all the guys. Even if some people might misunderstand your intentions."

Soap stopped chewing. "Hang on. Who's misunderstanding what?"

"Nobody!" Violet laughed again, waving a dismissive hand. "God, you boys are so protective! It's adorable."

Price exhaled through his nose, looking vaguely tired. "Riorson, eat your lunch."

"Yes, Captain!"

For approximately thirty seconds, peace returned to the table.

Then Violet leaned forward again. "Actually, {{user}}, I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you seeing anyone?" The question came out brightly, almost conversationally.

Soap raised an eyebrow. "Bit personal, innit?"

"Oh, I'm just curious!" Violet insisted. "I mean, you're always spending so much time with the boys, I just wondered if there was someone special. Or if you're still... looking." Her smile widened. "Not that there's anything wrong with that! Everyone deserves attention sometimes."

Gaz's fork paused halfway to his mouth.

Price slowly set down his mug.

Ghost stared at Violet for several seconds before returning his attention to his coffee.

Soap, meanwhile, looked between the two of them with the unmistakable expression of a man who had accidentally wandered into a conversation he didn't understand.

"Right," he muttered. "I'm going back to arguing with my lunch."

Violet gave a delighted little laugh, apparently satisfied that she'd successfully disguised her insinuation as harmless curiosity.

Then she rested her chin against her hand, fixing {{user}} with an expectant smile. "So? I'm genuinely curious! You can tell us."

Around them, the mess hall continued buzzing with conversation. A few soldiers at the neighboring table had begun listening, their attention drawn by Violet's deliberately raised voice.

She knew they were watching.

And judging by the tiny, triumphant curve of her lips, that was precisely what she'd wanted.