#i think i breathed enough life into this computer to limp aling a few more months until i can replace it

[oldmanpuppyplay]

The Midnight Meat Train (2008), Dir. Ryûhei Kitamura

[inkedsoldier]

Chew the Bullet - Chapter Three

A Modern Warfare series

Casey Vos is a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces. She has been stationed in Afghanistan and Syria, but now works everywhere they need her assistance. Specialized in counterterrorism and intelligence, she is unmistakably a great asset for the upcoming Taskforce 1-4-1, under the command of Captain John Price.

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter three of Chew the Bullet. Let me introduce to you, Captain Jonathan Price. Please, if you see any errors, let me know so I can fix it. It’s much appreciated. Well, I hope you enjoy! And please leave a note, vote or message with your thoughts! Bravo team out.

Warnings: angst.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Lyons wanted a better weapon. Kate knew exactly who she had to call to arrange that. The cell phone vibrated in his pocket while he tried to maintain his position on the roof. He slowly pressed the small button on his pack. “John?” the voice on the other end of the line said. He recognised who it was immediately, “Laswell,” he replied. “Where are you,” Kate asked, while he moved into a prone position. “Occupied,” he responded looking through his night vision scope, spotting the hostile on the building on the other side of the street. Jonathan Price was used to fighting in the shadows. He joined the infantry at the age of sixteen and has been on the frontline ever since. In charge of a highly effective unit, tasked with anti-hijacking counterterrorism, specializing in close quarter combat, sniper techniques and hostage rescue, he is one of the best in the field. The captain works closely with Western intelligence agencies assigned to aggressively pursue HVTs. Just like Casey he is on call to mobilize anywhere in the world with immediate readiness. “I got a problem,” the blonde CIA officer informed him. Word travels fast and he knew what she was talking about, “Russians?” Kate sighed, “Chemical weapons have fallen into terrorist hands. They could be anywhere.” The hostile was slowly getting in position to take the shot on the vehicle approaching; it was John’s mark to engage. He aimed down the scope, checked the wind speed and distance to avoid anything that would lead to missing the shot. He turned of the safety and pulled the trigger. One shot, one kill. “When can you brief?” Kate asked unknown of the situation. He slowly stood up and checked the scene in front of him. “We just did,” he stated before ending the call.

 10:33 AM Metropolitan Police Service HQ, London

Casey had been sitting on the floor in one of the offices at the headquarters for hours. Searching for any clue on what Al Qatala was planning next and finding a location on where the chemicals could be, she hadn’t discovered anything yet.  Papers were scattered all around her and the pin board on the wall was filled with possible leads, but nothing pointed directly to last nights ambush. Even the computer system took ages to open the encrypted files on the hard disks they found in the townhouse. Growing more frustrated by the minute a deep sigh left her lips. She wanted to have a tantrum and punch the wall like a grounded teenager. She felt like a failure. Why the hell wasn’t she able to find anything? What did she miss? The door opening and closing startled her out of concentration. “Here take this,” Kyle spoke. She turned around and watched the sergeant coming up to her with a bowl of porridge in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. “You need some fuel if you keep going like this,” he advised with a smile on his face. The Dutch operator was committed to her job and he knew that. Nothing could stop her once she got sucked into a new mission. “Thank you,” she replied softly, just loud enough for him to hear. There was kindness in his smile, a gentleness. It was the smile of one who laughed with ease and could see right through her behaviour.

 Suddenly, an out of control beeping sound came from the laptop on the desk behind them, bringing them both sharply into focus. Casey jolted up and checked the screen of the device. A jungle of algorithms filled the screen, followed by multiple sources of footage from the Wolf. She held her breath and tried to concentrate as if her life depended on it. “… this can’t be,” the lieutenant uttered. “Piccadilly Circus… they are planning on attacking Piccadilly Circus! Tonight!” Kyle moves as if someone else is controlling him. His eyes are wide, looking right at the screen. “Bollocks,” he yelled. In situations like this, fast thinking is critical. The brain needs to work like a supercomputer, which is able to think properly, is logical and not afraid.  It’s an important source to survive. “Ok. Listen to me – this is how were going to do this. I call Laswell. You assemble the team. According to this…” Casey said as she pointed to the laptop, “… the attack is set up to take place at six o’clock. That means we got around seven hours to prepare and think of a strategy to stop it.”

 05:50 PM Piccadilly Circus, London

Piccadilly Circus is known as a busy meeting place and a tourist attraction in the centre of London. Video displays and neon signs are mounted on the corner building on the northern side, and in the middle the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain can be found. The road junction is surrounded by several notable buildings, and situated directly underneath is the underground station. “Okay guys. The terror treat level is now critical,” Casey started. “We expect multiple attackers. Bombers or something worse. We got a negative on sniper support, but I’ll provide cover from higher ground,” she informed the team in the car. “Raven for Alpha-One, how copy?” the section chief sounded on the comms. “Alpha-One for Raven. Send traffic,” Casey replied. “Keep in mind we don’t want to turn London into a warzone,” the man stated. “Copy that. Alpha-One out.”

 After going through the strategy one last time, Casey made her way to the highest building for overwatch. Without alarming nearby civilians she managed to get on the roof and find the best cover possible. Dressed in all black gear she was ready for the mission. Earlier Kate Laswell informed the Dutch operator that Price was on his way to London for support on the operation. With her sniper rifle in hand she moved into a prone position. It was almost six - time to switch to night vision. “Alpha-One for Alpha-Two, over” she asked tapping her earpiece slightly. “Alpha-Two for Alpha-One. A white van just approached to intersection. Heads up.” Kyle notified. “A-firm. Be careful, Gaz. Multiple hostiles in view,” Casey reported back while she watched the team move out of the van. They slowly approached the suspects, trying not to spook them. Adrenaline flooded their systems when suddenly a man screamed and tried to ran towards the van in front of them. Two armed men got out of the vehicle before it speeded off to the intersection. A loud explosion and gunshots followed, leaving multiple wounded in the area, including Crowley and Brooks.

 It was pure chaos. Civilians tried to get out of the area, while suicide bombers tried to get in. Gunshots come thick like winter hail, cutting through the air. Casey could hear Gaz on the comms informing Scotland Yard about the detonation and hurt officers, asking for medical support. She removed the safety on the rifle and scoped for the terrorists. “All units, they’re taking hostages at Piccadilly station. I say again, we have a hostage situation at Piccadilly Station,” a female voice briefed in her earpiece. She couldn’t get a clear view on the underground station, but she saw Kyle going down the steps.

 On the opposite side of the junction, Price and two other soldiers entered the field. “Bravo six to Watcher, London just turned into a battlefield,” the captain stated. Closing in on the fountain a suicide bomber approaches the trio from the left side. But before he gets the chance to detonate the vest a bullet pierced his skull. “I thought you said there would be no sniper support, Laswell?” Price asked. “Negative on sniper support, John” was all she responded. Someone was bending the rules and the decision might have saved the lives of his team members just now. “They’re hold up in the Tanto building,” a female voice informed them on the comms. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why he knew it. “Let’s move,” the SAS captain declared.

After clearing the bookstore and avoiding being hit by a car, Kyle moves from his position to the Tanto building. “Sergeant, suspects are retreating into the Tanto building to the Northwest. We need all units covering the Tanto building, now!” the section chief yelled in his earpiece. “I got your Six, Gaz” Casey informed him, before sniping down another bomber in front of the store. “Bloody hell,” was all Kyle Garrick managed to say. A piece of metal blocked the entrance of the building. With all his power he tried to move it, but one of the members of Al Qatala attacked him upon entering. Gunshots cracked the air, and the hostile went limp. “Blue! Blue!” Kyle yelled turning around. Price approached the sergeant, “I see you. You armed up?”

 It took them a few minutes to clear the electronics store. Unfortunately, one of the hostages was forced to wear an explosive vest. With six seconds until detonation, Price had to make the decision to save the other hostages from the inevitable explosion. Pushing the man off the second floor was the only option to safe the rest. After the teams secured Piccadilly Circus, Casey got down from the roof to meet up with Kyle and the captain. She was nervous to finally face the man that had inspired her during the times they worked together. Running her hand over the scar just above her heart, the officer reminded herself that she survived for a reason. Her hands shake in a way she couldn’t control, all she can do is loop her thumbs into the pockets of the jeans she was wearing, hoping she looked casual.

 Police sirens were wailing all around. Kyle gritted his teeth to remain silent, his face showing suppressed rage. “You saved lives today, sergeant” Price spoke coming up behind him. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, sir” the soldier replied, the anger clearly in his voice. “They sent us in half assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we’re not at war.” The SAS captain knew what he was talking about, “Yeah, lie of the fucking century, that is.” Anger boiled deep into Gaz’s system. “Then why have we got our hands tied? Lets just take the bloody gloves off and fight… sir.” John Price nodded, “Go on.” Kyle turned around fully to face the captain. “We don’t stand a chance in hell with these rules of engagement, Captain. They can tell us where, they can tell us when… don’t tell us how. We were tracking that cell for weeks,” Kyle told. “You had actionable intel on this?” Price asked. “Quite a bit, Price” Casey replied walking up to the two men. Though her voice was the same, had he seen her first he would have denied it was her. “…Case?” he asked wide eyed. She tried to speak again, but her voice falters into unintelligible croaks, so she just nodded. Casey wears a face like she’s expecting anger from the man, anger that doesn’t exist. She feels so much misplaced guilt. Before she knew it, he was hugging her tightly, tears dripping from her cheeks on her black vest.

Masterlist

Taglist: @imahardcase​ @yvessaintrogers​

[uas-art]

Title: Only Straight Guys Fix Bicycles.

Rating: T for the singular F bomb dropped midway through.

Summary: Tweek finally learned why Craig stole borrowed all those bicycles.

Ships: Creek

Other: Inspired by This ask post from @cheylouwho and another post I cannot for the life of me find that broke down hints that Craig may have been gay from early on, but hiding it for his dad's sake, or something akin to that.

~~~~

Craig still had himself another forty-five minutes to enjoy curled up in his boyfriend's bed. Forty-five glorious, glorious minutes of warm cuddling, breathing in the smell of coffee, morning spring fabric softener, and the cologne Tweek accidently dumped earlier that week that continued to stubbornly cling to the sheets. Forty-five minutes of Tweek's arm around his middle and his nose pressed against his neck until Craig had to get up and sneak back out the window to go home before his own parents awoke. Forty-five glorious minutes.

Or they would be glorious, if Tweek would kindly stop tapping against Craig's stomach with his fingertips.

With a huff, Craig slipped his hand under the covers and grabbed Tweek's fingers midtap.

"Stop, babe," he mumbled. "I know you're awake at this time of night, but I'm not. Let me sleep."

"Ack!" Tweek stiffened. "Sorry, sorry, just, nnng, thinking."

Craig released Tweek's fingers and laid his arm back down. With a contented sigh, Craig began to doze back off. Just as the rest of the world began to fade into unconsciousness, he felt another tap.

Craig groan, rolling over to glare. "Tweek."

"Sorry!" Tweek scooted back a little. He pulled his hand to his chest.

Craig let out a breath. Usually when Craig snuck over to sleep with Tweek, Tweek was very considerate about Craig's sleep schedule compared to his own. Sure, sometimes that meant that Craig would wake up alone with Tweek sitting idly at his computer desk, but Tweek rarely woke him up before it was time for Craig to hurry home. For Tweek to break that routine, something must be wrong.

"What's the matter?" Craig asked as he grabbed Tweek's arm and put it back over his side. It was meant to be there, tapping or not.

"Nothing's the matter," Tweek replied. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Craig asked through a yawn. He wasn't going to push too hard for information if Tweek decided not to give it, at least, not that early in the morning.

"My bike. It's broken, something with the chain, I think? I have to walk the deliveries around town until I can figure out how to fix it. It's a, argh, pain in the ass."

Craig made a sound of understanding. Since Tweak Bro's had open their delivery service, Tweek had been biking around town more than ever. Tweek tried near daily to get permission to use the car, even though he still only had his permit, but his parents always refused.

'It'll build character and your calf muscles!' They told him.

Craig hummed, then asked, "Do you want me to help? I know how to fix bicycles."

Tweek snorted a laugh. It was an adorable sound that made Craig smile lazily.

"You mean when you, heh-heh, stole all those bikes back in, like, third grade?" Tweek teased.

"I didn't steal them. I borrowed them." Craig corrected. "And fixed them."

Tweek rolled his eyes. "Is that why your dad made you go and apologize for taking them without asking? Why did you even do that anyway?"

Craig rolled his eyes right back before scooting closer and wrapping his own arm around Tweek. He nuzzled against Tweek's chest, pressing his palm against the middle of Tweek's upper back, as if the action could pull his boyfriend closer than he already was. Tweek's shirt smelled even more so of the dumped cologne than the sheets. Not that Craig was going to complain. He'd take this over the Axe Bath Clyde did after gym any day.

"Doesn't matter. I fixed them." He mumbled. "Now, let. Me. Sleep."

"Tell me later." Tweek took his free arm from Craig's side and tangled his fingers in his boyfriend's dark hair. Craig sleepily grunted the affirmative in response before finally drifting back off for another forty glorious, glorious minutes of sleep.

The fresh snow crunched under Craig's feet as he walked around the back of Tweak Bro's. He adjusted his backpack as he went. The clang of metal tools shuffling around in the bag alerted Tweek to his presence. Tweek looked up from his bicycle. He smiled before hurrying over to hug his boyfriend.

"Thanks for doing this," Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

"No problem. I'm practically an expert repair man." Craig replied as he shrugged off his bag. Tweek led him to the bicycle, and Craig stooped down. He turned the peddles a few times and tugged at the limp chain before nodding.

"Yeah, something's up with the chain drive. Looks kind of rusted." Craig tapped the chain as he spoke. "I think I still have some parts around my house. I could replace it, but it won't be today."

Tweek swore, "Fuck! I have to make a delivery in, like, five minutes."

Craig wiped his hands on his jeans before pushing himself up. "What me to walk with you?"

"You want to?" Tweek perked up.

"Sure," Craig shrugged.

Tweek wrapped Craig in a half hug and rested his head on his shoulder. "Thanks, dude, and on the way, you can tell me about your bike crime spree."

Craig stiffened. "That wasn't a dream?"

"Every night with you is a dream," Tweek snickered, earning himself a playful shove away and a middle finger. Still chuckling, Tweek hurried into the store to grab his deliveries. After a moment, he popped back out with a large paper bag in hand. The Tweak Bro's logo printed on the front.

Craig pulled on his backpack and ambled after his boyfriend to the street.

"So, your crime spree," Tweek began, "why'd you do it?"

"It's stupid."

"I still wanna know."

Craig sighed then ran a hand through his hair. "Ok, but remember, you asked, so you can't laugh."

Tweek nodded for him to go on, watching Craig's face attentively. Or as attentively as he could without tripping and dropping his delivery.

"Ok, the reason I borrowed all those bicycles back then was..." he let out a low breath, "was because only straight guys fix bicycles."

Tweek stopped, fixing Craig with a confused look. "What? That doesn't make any sense! You're the logical one here, dude, and that is so illogical that even I can't make sense of that!"

"I was nine!" Craig defended. "Back when I was nine, I didn't know that people were born gay. I thought you became gay by doing, well, girly things."

"'Girly things'? What? Explain?" Tweek shook his head as he started walking again.

"The only gay guys I knew were Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave, and kind of our teacher. The way Dad complained about them when I was around, it was like how effeminately the talked and acted and junk was what made them gay, ya know? The issue with gay men wasn't that they liked other men, it was that they didn't act like a man 'should be' acting." Craig felt his face heating up. He knew exactly how stupid this sounded. Part of him wished he could go back six years and cuss out nine-year-old Craig for being such a dumbass.

As they came to the cross walk and waited for a car to pass, Craig looked away before speaking. "So I thought if I did some super manly things all the time, that one day I'd wake up, look out the window into the blue sky and think, 'yeah, I like boobies. Girls and only girls are the people I am attracted to and want to date!'.”

Tweek tried to cover his laughed but failed. "Did it work?"

"Considering I snuck into your house to spoon you last night? No, it did not." Craig relaxed a little. He stepped closer as they crossed the street and grabbed for Tweek's hand. A family cross the other way at the same time. The parents cranked their heads to watch Craig and Tweek with smiles on their faces. The usual reaction to Craig and Tweek's public displays of affection, even after all these years.

Tweek squeezed Craig's hand. "So, stealing is masculine, and you thought stealing bikes would make you straight?"

"No, I thought doing something masculine like fixing cars would make me straight if I did them enough, but since Dad wouldn't let me take apart the engine of our car, I went to the closest thing I had: fixing bicycles." Craig shrugged. "It just so happens that I have more gay thoughts than I had friends with bikes, so I started borrowing other people's to fix."

Craig waited for Tweek to take a jab at him for borrowing people's bicycles without permission, but instead Tweek hummed to himself before swinging their connected hands a little.

"You know," Tweek said as they stopped in front of the Photo Dojo, "I would still have like-liked you, even if that plan of yours did work." Before Craig could reply, an employee stepped out of the store. Craig took a step back, instantly wishing he didn't have to drop his hand away, and let Tweek handle the transaction.

"Enjoy your cupcakes, and thank you for choosing Tweak Bro's," Tweek told the employee in his customer voice. It was almost eerie how Tweek had trained himself to switch between his normal, somewhat jittery, voice, to a calm collected one, not too unlike his father's, when he had to deal with customers. Maybe it was a Tweak family trait.

The Photo Dojo employee nodded and shut the door, a cupcake already shoved in his mouth.

Craig quickly reclaimed Tweek's hand. "You were saying? Something about already being enamoured by my hot looks and charm before we were dating?"

Tweek breathed a laugh. "Actually, yeah, dude. Pretty much."

"Wait, seriously?" Craig stepped in front of Tweek and leaned down so their noses nearly touched. "Little nine-year-old Tweek Tweak had a crush on not as little nine-year-old me?" His lips curved up. "That's adorable."

"I got the crush when I was eight, actually. Get it right." Tweek laughed. He ducked around Craig and began to pull him back towards the coffee shop.

"Well, I can't say I blame you. I was very desirable property back in the day. Girls just clamoured for my affections. Fought each other tooth and nail just to hold my sticky little hand." Craig smirked. "And you? You, babe, didn't even have try to get me. You pretty much won the lottery."

"Wasn't I voted more attractive by the girls in our class than you, Mr. Eleventh?"

"I was twelfth on the fake list, actually. Get it right."

Tweek laughed. He paused a moment before looking a way. "You know, this is going to sound corny but," He smiled up at Craig, "I'm really am happy your bicycle plan didn't work."

Craig felt his cheeks heat up. He grinned back for a beat before bending down, pressing a kiss on Tweek's forehead.

"Yeah, I am, too."

~~~~

AN: Writing these two being dorks with each other is my favorite thing, ok???? x3