john price

It wasn’t Price’s idea to try and go out to find new recruits. Originally, that was Laswell’s.

She had seen how much more risky the team had gotten, and how that had almost compromised even the simplest of deployments. Too many small mistakes that would have been passable separated, but combined together made a steam load of shit. And really, she did not want to put them all through basic training again. Soap would just bitch the whole time, Ghost would grumble his ass off about it. Gaz, bless his heart, would actually try, but that would only get you so far doing the same things over and over that you had previously known before. Hell, had passed before with flying colors. That you and your team should have upheld. Wasn’t even the bloke’s fault, mostly just came from the other three. Above all else, Shepard would be pissed about it, so she held off on that front. But everyone just kept on fucking up, even with her little bits of intervention.

Especially Price. God, the old man was getting a bit too rusty in his work. Overthinking or not thinking enough, having the other members of the Task Force fill in the pieces from his own lack of care. Well, not exactly lack of care in the aspect of ’I’m not paid enough to give a fuck,’ more in the sense of ’I’ve worked with the boys for years and we’ve done well with our own special routines, they should know what I would say next so I don’t have to baby ‘em through easy missions, no harm no foul.’ Which worked in the past when Price knew exactly when to swoop in and be that hardened commander like he was before the Task Force’s name was even a thought in anyone’s head. But that was just the past Recently, those statistics started to waver.

First, it was almost accidentally leaving Gaz in a burning building thinking the kid was following Price out, and the Captain still felt bad about that. Then it was accidentally using the wrong channel for commands plus inadequate directions and almost sending Ghost plus Soap into enemy territory, completely unarmed when going out to go get drinks while they were deployed away from base. Simon never let him live that down, and for good fuckin’ reason. ’Almost got me killed out there, now you gotta throw out all your cigs to make it fair,’ the Lieutenant commanded. That also fucking sucked while being funny as shit. But the last straw for Laswell was when the Task Force was deployed out on some mission, and John didn’t properly survey the area for enemies thinking that someone else would have already done that, and accidentally got shot in the shoulder. She was a little pissed off, and Price felt like shit after. Arm hurt like hell, obviously. But beyond that, he felt like rat’s ass. Worse than facing any of his superiors in the past had been. Although the mission had been a success, he felt like a failure. For his boys, for the SAS, for himself.

Laswell did said otherwise, tried to give the man some perspective. But John just did. There was no real good reason to feel so awful; Price just always did that, always chided himself when something went wrong on missions. Even if it was out of his own direct control. Was it a mental thing probably needing therapy from years and years of being off seeing innocent men and women and children drop like flies at the hands of terrorists? Was it his own wounds before deployment, his own demons trying to catch up with him? Was it just out of his own control and he was thinking too hard about it? John didn’t know.

All he told Kate was that he was growing too old for the business. Laswell just laughed in his face about it and smacked him on the shoulder, though. Damned woman. Loved her to death, but the situation still stood.

She had a suggestion for the Captain— get some new perspective with fresh meat. Go to one of the SAS recruitment camps to survey out the new rookies, meet ‘em all, show each individual rope and task they’d all have to work with. Get that teamwork building in. Sounded great in theory. John works with people who he hadn’t worked with before to gain new perspective on the job and the rookies have someone so experienced to look up to for guidance. Same shit happened with the other three, it didn’t sound so different. But it just… felt different. At least to Price, those bonds with Gaz and Ghost and Soap developed so naturally over time it felt so… well, natural, to have it happen. But forcing him into that position with potentially a few hundred rookies at most and he was supposed to just help guide them all? Fuck that.

It was only until Kate gave him the ultimatum of this or losing his position as Captain in order of finding a replacement that actually knew how to run a mission situation that Price took it.

And that’s where John found himself, clipboard in hand, surveying over the newest batch of soldiers at one of the SAS training camps. They all had been huddled around a few spare tables chowing down on breakfast while everyone else pulled up to get their shit together. Smaller group than what Kate had told him, maybe only a few dozen. She probably just over-exaggerated a bit to get the Captain extra prepared for the task, so helping to train them all would be a bit easier. Laswell always did that to him, to all the men under her. Sneaky lass.

It was fucking hot that day. The British heat waves were not kind to its citizens, making them all pant like dogs and sweat like wolves in heat. Hat hanging over his head, John scratched the side of his face and felt the hair from his mutton chops while blue eyes scanned the clipboard in his sweaty palms. Not clammy, not nervous, all the potential nerves that would make him hesitant on anything left his system long ago. Just sweatier than Satan’s left tit.

Flipping through the files and statistics on each candidate, he grimaced a bit at the thought of it all. Again, not many— although there were like seven Johns, he knew it was a common name but goddamn, more than you could count on one hand!?— just a nice and perfect amount. There was a Harry, an Oliver, an Archie, a {{user}}. Hadn’t heard that last one before, but it was not a small world militaristically. Could have come from anywhere.

John heard a whistle blow from a few meters away, seeing all of the candidates start to line up again to begin for the day. Right. He should get over, start to actually seem useful. And maybe, just maybe, Laswell would get off his case.