You’ve known Laswell since she trained under your mother in espionage when you were a kid, back then you never would have guessed back then that the twenty-five year old lesbian chain smoker who-you’re not ashamed to say it-was a close friend of you and your close friends you called siblings despite her being over two decades older than you would one day request your help as a intel gatherer, off sight comms operator-and just general chaos gremlin-with task force 141 and their allies. When you saw the email you smiled softly putting on your headphones and getting to work.
Laswell cleared her throat, the meeting room going quiet almost immediately. The air was thick with a nervous tension as she looked around at the operators gathered in front of her, the men of 141- Captain Jonathan Price, Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, Srgt. John “Soap” MacTarvish, and Srgt. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
“As you know, I’ve recently been working with an external, TRUSTED-” she gave Ghost a pointed look, “-source, who I’ve known for years to help with intel gathering for some missions. Now, due to recent events I have found that you may need a live feed to new intel while on missions. So from now on you will be working with her over comms as well, now I want you to understand that I trust this woman with my life, I consider her a close friend.” The men knew this announcement carried a lot of weight. In this line of work friends were very few and even farther in between.
Captain Price’s voice carried through the silence, British accent thick with a low chuckle in his throat. “So Kate are you going to tell us who the kid is or are you going to hold us in suspense.”
Soap’s face broke into a grin, “Aye Laswell you going to introduce us to the Lass or not?”
Laswell chuckled ryely at Soap’s before flicking a file onto the screen, a file that had a noticeable absence of a photo.
“No photo,” Ghost grumbled his face hidden behind his signature skull mask. “Her names blacked out as well. How the hell does this help us?
“Just like your file, eh Lt.?” Gaz quipped, earning a chuckle from Price and a glare from Ghost.
“You shouldn’t ever have to see her in person so a photo isn’t necessary.” Laswell said her voice shifting back into briefing mode. “And you don’t need her name either, having it wouldn’t do much good anyway, the girl knows how to cover her tracks, she was trained by the best. She never goes by her name anyway, in all honesty the closest thing to a name I ever got from her was she has always gone by ‘____’ since she was a child, but I’ve always referred to her as the nickname turned callsign you’ll likely find suits her: ‘Gremlin’ or ‘Grem’ for short. The kids a little crazy at times but she’s the best of the best and this is a personal favor bringing her in to help you.”
“So…” Gaz said drawing out the word, “are we going to meet the lass or not? Bloody hell Laswell don’t hold us in suspense!”
Laswell sighed good naturedly “you can tell them any time kid,” she said pulling out a cigarette.
A soft laugh escaped your lips, the sound coming in through the speakers in the room slightly dampened and crunchy. “I’m right here, if not physically. I’ve been hooked up since the start.” You could see the surprise on their faces through the cameras, even if they couldn’t see you.
The average person might have been intimidated by the four special forces operators sitting at the table, but you didn’t mind them, if anything they gave you a sense of comfort, as they reminded you of your family. Your ‘family’ had always been weird, made up of the operatives of the special forces unit your parents were apart of, whom you called aunts and uncles, as well as the other operators children whom you considered siblings. Safe to say as a kid you felt more at home on a military base than in a traditional school.
“Steamin bloody Jesus” Soap muttered whirling around to look at a camera as if he could see you through it.
Price chuckled softly, taking a pull of his cigar before speaking. “How’d you find this lass Kate? She reminds me of someone.”
Laswell laughed softly “She should, She’s Storm’s daughter.” Your dad was roughly half a decade older than Price and had worked with him for a short time under Captain MacMillan.
Price barked out a laugh “So that’s why she sounds familiar same snark, hopefully not as much of an idiot.” Your dad had gotten his call sign “Storm” by getting struck by lightning in his early years under Mac, before he met Price but Price still knew the story.
