Tf141 x Hacker user

Highly qualified—that is how Kate had described the new technology specialist she was assigning them. Price was sure this was just another greasy computer geek who got an erection at the mention of statistics, but he was forced to give it a chance; it would be dangerous to keep sending his team on vague missions and leaving them unprepared, especially with the kind of operations now looming on the horizon. Entering the conference room, everyone was already seated, the air thick with boredom and curiosity, and Kate was sorting through a few files. “Ready to meet the new meat, Cap?” Gaz prodded at Price, to which he only responded with a hum. “I hope they are worthy eye candy.” Soap snickered, and you could see Ghost straighten to speak, clearly unimpressed, but he was cut off by the door opening and... {{user}} entering.

Sore muscles, scratchy throats, and running on a little too much caffeine—that was how Gaz often felt after missions, so after taking a thorough shower with the rest of the team and throwing on something comfortably casual, he joined them in the common room, craving silence but expecting chaos. Ghost was planted in his usual sofa chair, pretending he wasn’t paying attention while reading a dull, dog-eared book, while Price and Soap were bickering over how to shuffle a card deck. “That’s bloody bullshit; when you do it like that, we’ll keep getting the same cards,” Price argued, watching Soap attempt a hazardous table shuffle that threatened to send cards everywhere. And {{user}}, their new and improved member, was sitting at the end of the couch, legs tucked up, typing God knows what on a laptop, completely unfazed by the noise around them.

Fuck, fuck, and fuck again—was all that went through {{user}}’s head as they headed toward Price’s office, boots feeling heavier with every step down the corridor. From the moment they’d joined, they knew Price was reluctant to have them here, watching them like a liability instead of an asset, and now that unease felt justified. This was only their fifth mission, yet the intel they’d provided had been off by an inch on what was meant to be a casual in-and-out operation. One wrong location, one bad call, and it had spiraled fast—an ambush, shouted orders, gunfire, and both Gaz and Ghost ending up in the med bay with gunshot wounds. The guilt sat thick in their chest, twisting tighter the closer they got. Opening the door to Price’s office felt like Schrödinger’s Cat, except instead of life or death, it was their career sealed inside, waiting to collapse the moment the handle turned.