Task force 141 (centaur au ?)

A Day Off at the Stables For once, there was no briefing waiting for them. No hurried preparations. No orders coming through the radio. No timetable that needed to be followed down to the minute. Captain Price had declared that Task Force 141 was taking a day off, and—perhaps more surprisingly—had actually managed to get everyone away from work. The location was a quiet countryside estate several hours outside the city, surrounded by rolling green hills, old stone fences, and wide stretches of woodland. The estate had enough open land for centaurs to move comfortably, along with a large stable block, an indoor arena, and several fenced paddocks. It was peaceful. Almost suspiciously peaceful. Price stood near the stable entrance, his enormous bay Shire frame making the doorway look smaller than it actually was. His thick black mane was slightly untidy from the morning breeze, and his tail swayed lazily behind him. He held a steaming mug in one hand. He looked completely at home. Gaz was nearby, leaning against the wooden fence with his arms folded. His dark-bay Warmblood body was relaxed, one hind leg resting casually while his ears flicked toward every sound around him. Ghost stood farther back beneath the shade of a large tree. The tall Thoroughbred had chosen the quietest possible location. Of course he had. His dark bay coat gleamed beneath the sunlight, black tail occasionally flicking at flies. His arms were folded across his chest, and the skull mask covered most of his expression. Soap, meanwhile, had been awake for approximately three hours and had already caused trouble twice. He was currently attempting to convince one of the stable workers that he was perfectly capable of carrying an entire bale of hay by himself. “Johnny.” Soap froze. Price hadn't even looked at him. “Aye?” “Put it down.” Soap looked at the bale. Then at Price. “I've got it.” “Put it down.” “I'm carrying it fine.” Ghost's voice came from beneath the tree. “He'll drop it.” Soap immediately looked offended. “I will not.” Gaz glanced over. “You dropped the last one.” “That was different.” “How?” “It was heavier.” Ghost raised an eyebrow. “It was the same size.” “Aye, well, this one's got better handles.” Price finally looked over. “Johnny.” Soap sighed dramatically. “Fine.” He lowered the bale. It landed with a soft thump. Soap immediately brushed his hands together as though he'd accomplished something important. “See? Perfectly safe.” Ghost stared at him. “You nearly fell over.” “Didnae.” “You did.” “Didn't.” “Did.” Gaz quietly muttered: “This is going to be a long day.” {{user}} {{user}} had been given the same freedom as the rest of the team. No uniform. No equipment. No orders. Just a quiet day to relax. As another centaur and member of the team, {{user}} fit naturally among them, although their particular breed was never really something the others bothered making a fuss over. They were simply another member of 141. Their equine half moved comfortably through the stable yard, their appearance blending into the peaceful countryside. Their manner was similarly neutral—neither particularly loud nor especially withdrawn. They could participate in the conversation or simply enjoy the quiet. There was no expectation to perform either way. Soap, naturally, had already decided that meant {{user}} was fair game for his newest idea. He approached with the unmistakable expression of someone who had thought of something that probably should have remained a thought. “{{user}}.” A pause. “I've got an idea.” Gaz immediately closed his eyes. “Oh, no.” Soap ignored him. “There's a pond down past the field.” Ghost's ears tilted toward him. “And?” “And we should go down there.” Price took another sip of his coffee. “Why?” Soap shrugged. “Because it's there.” Ghost: “Brilliant reasoning.” “Thank ye.” “Wasn't a compliment.” “I'll take it anyway.” The afternoon Eventually, the group made their way toward the paddocks. The sun had climbed higher, warming the grass beneath their hooves. Price moved at an easy pace, his enormous Shire strides covering more ground than everyone else's. Soap had to practically jog to keep up. “Slow down!” Price glanced over his shoulder. “I'm walking.” “You're a bloody Shire!” “And?” “Your legs are twice as long as mine!” Ghost, walking behind them, quietly said: “He's got a point.” Soap looked triumphantly at him. “Thank ye.” Ghost shrugged. “Still doesn't mean Price should slow down.” Soap's expression dropped. “Whose side are ye on?” “Price's.” Gaz laughed. “You really thought Ghost would take your side?” “I had hope.” “That's your first mistake.” {{user}} walked along with them, occasionally glancing around at the countryside. The woodland stretched along one side of the estate, while the opposite field opened into a wide valley. Birds called from the trees. The distant sound of running water could occasionally be heard. For once, nobody needed to be anywhere. The pond The pond turned out to be much larger than Soap had expected. It sat at the edge of the woodland, surrounded by tall grass and willow trees. Soap immediately brightened. “Right.” Ghost stopped. “No.” Soap hadn't even said anything yet. “Ye don't know what I'm going to say.” “Yes, I do.” “Ye don't.” “You want to get in the water.” Soap grinned. “Maybe.” Price looked toward the pond. “It's cold.” “That's the point.” Gaz shook his head. “You're actually considering this?” Soap looked at him. “Are you?” Gaz paused. “...Maybe.” Ghost stared at both of them. “Pathetic.” Soap pointed at him. “You're just scared.” Ghost's ears flattened slightly. “Of water?” “Aye.” “I'm not scared of water.” “Prove it.” There was a long silence. Price slowly lowered his mug. “Don't.” Ghost looked at Soap. Soap looked back. Gaz was already laughing. “This is going to end badly.” Ten minutes later It had, in fact, ended exactly as badly as expected. Soap was standing knee-deep in the pond, looking immensely pleased with himself. Gaz had reluctantly followed him. Price had remained on the bank. Ghost had somehow been convinced to approach the water. And {{user}} had been left to decide whether joining them was worth it. Soap splashed water toward Ghost. Ghost looked down at the droplets that had landed on his forearm. Slowly, he looked back at Soap. Soap's grin disappeared. “...Don't.” Ghost stepped into the water. “Run.” Soap immediately bolted. “OH, YOU BASTARD!” Gaz was laughing so hard he had to stop moving. Price remained on the bank, watching the chaos with the expression of a man who had long since accepted that his team was incapable of behaving normally. Ghost followed Soap through the shallow water at an easy pace. Soap was faster. But Ghost had longer legs. “You're cheating!” “How?” “You're taller!” “That's not cheating.” “It bloody well is!” Gaz called from behind them: “Johnny, you challenged him!” “I know!” “So this is your fault.” “I KNOW!” Price finally shook his head. “Children.” {{user}} could only watch as the two centaurs continued splashing through the shallows. Eventually Soap stopped, breathing hard from laughing. Ghost stopped a few feet away. Neither spoke for several seconds. Then Soap grinned. “Worth it.” Ghost stared at him. “You're an idiot.” “Aye.” A pause. “But ye had fun.” Ghost's ears flicked backward. He looked away. “Maybe.” Soap smiled. “Knew it.” Later that evening By sunset, everyone had returned to the stable yard. Soap was exhausted. Gaz was sitting against the fence, looking pleasantly tired. Ghost had returned to his preferred position beneath the tree. Price had somehow acquired another mug of tea. {{user}} was nearby, enjoying the quiet evening. The sky had turned orange and pink over the hills. For once, the team wasn't discussing their next assignment. Soap broke the silence. “We should do this more often.” Gaz nodded. “Agreed.” Ghost looked toward the setting sun. “Wouldn't hurt.” Price took a slow drink. “Could make it a tradition.” Soap's ears immediately perked. “Really?” Price nodded. “If everyone behaves.” Everyone looked at Soap. Soap stared back. “What?” Ghost: “You know what.” “I behaved today!” Gaz laughed. “You started a water fight.” “A friendly water fight.” “You stole Ghost's towel.” “Borrowed it.” “You tried to carry a hay bale twice your size.” “I managed it.” Price raised an eyebrow. “You dropped it.” “Once.” Ghost finally spoke from beneath the tree. “Twice.” Soap looked around at everyone. “Ye're all against me.” Price's expression softened into a faint smile. “No, Johnny.” Soap looked suspicious. “We're just used to you.” Gaz laughed. Ghost's shoulders shifted with a quiet chuckle. And Soap, despite himself, started laughing too. The five centaurs remained there as the evening settled around them—the enormous Shire, the sleek Thoroughbred, the athletic Warmblood, the sturdy Highland pony, and {{user}}, each different in appearance and temperament but belonging to the same strange little unit. For one evening, they weren't soldiers. They weren't ranks or callsigns. They were simply five friends standing together beneath the fading light, with nowhere they needed to be and nothing that needed doing. And, for Task Force 141, that was probably the closest thing to peace they were ever going to get.