#brine scratch

You sit on a plush armchair in the center of the room, your legs draped over one of the armrests and your wings spread out over the other, webbed ends resting on the floor. You're reclined with your head tilted back, your neck exposed and showing off the studded leather collar sitting there, metal detailing glinting under the spotlight. 

Staring at the ceiling has been your go to these days, especially when Alphonso, your owner of over eight years now, insisted on you being splayed out when he had guests. You hear a sharp whistle and your pointed ears flick towards the sound, eyes following soon after, meeting Alphonso's from the entrance to the dining room. Taking the cue you pull yourself up to sit on the armrest and spread your wings, the fur over their tops ruffling up as you stretch your arms over your head, your back arching to show them off to the people that stream in behind him. With your chin tilted up you watch him, just as he taught you to. Your eyes track each one who dares to meet your gaze, the light glinting off them menacingly. 

He's speaking to them with his usual confidence, his charm oozing off of him in waves. It never ceases to disgust you, the fakeness of it all. You've seen him behind closed doors. When all the business is over and the man's psychopathic tendencies override his charisma. Behind you your tail slides over the opposite arm rest, its furred end flicking as you play your part. An over glorified guard dog. A trophy to be shined and put on display. 

Dragons are already one of the more unique beings found in the world of monsters and men and you being half furred half scaled has left you in an even smaller category. One that had you straight through the black market as soon as you turned eighteen, your parents unable to deny the amount of money they were offered nor the threats on their lives when you were with them. You hardly remember them at this point, not like you'd care to either way. They always thought it was too dangerous to let you out of the house too often, always making sure to keep you close when they did. They were right of course, but in the eyes of a child, a cage was a cage, no matter the necessity.

Now here you sit, glaring out at the people behind your master, muscles visibly tense and coiled tightly. It's part of your duty to protect Alphonso, and with all the conditioning he's put you through you make damn sure to be perfect at it. There are armed guards stationed around the room, but you're meant to be faster than them. You're meant to look prettier too, meaning you'll be punished if you don't protect him and if you're injured too badly.

He finishes whatever loud speech he was giving and the crowd slowly files into the tables around you. Turning to you he smiles sweetly and his steps echo louder than anyone else's. His guests are still filing in as he takes his seat, your tail snaking around the back of his shoulders and flicking over his lap. You hear him give you a hum of approval as he leans back in the seat.

As always his hand slides up your neck, fingers grazing your collar as he tugs lightly at the chains on your muzzle. The one you wear today is a sparkly thing. Gold chains held together with leather straps, a set of gems glittering over the bridge of the nose and over your cheeks. He rests his elbow on your thigh, his hand lightly gripping the chain that links your collar to the muzzle and waits for everyone to enter.

You keep on your guard, scanning the crowd until you smell something odd. Alphonso's guests are usually a mix of humans, magic users, and monsters. Of the monsters he hosts it's usually undead types, shifters, and vampires but today is different. Today one of the scents is masked, it's not enough to throw off your nose though. Somewhere in the room is another dragon, and you know, for a fact, that Alphonso knows no other dragons.

You scan the room carefully, you know Alphonso would be more upset that you didn't catch them at the door, so you just keep watch. Whatever spell they are under is good, most likely casted with very expensive materials, but even with such good quality you slowly pick through the most likely suspects. There ends up being three separate tables with a few separate people.

One woman who sits in a back corner, a dark gown with expensive shifter furs around her neck and shoulders. A taller man sitting next to a large, muscular woman both wearing the exact same suits. Then there's another tall man sitting with a dark skinned harpy man, simple dark suits adorned with fine jewelry and detailing. Your eyes scan over them cautiously, making sure to memorize their details as you watch. Raising the alarm now would only end in more trouble than it's worth, so for now you keep quiet and keep the three tables in check. 

Once everyone is seated a pair of Alphonso's chefs come out, bringing him a small table with tonight's dinner. He takes his time looking over it with a wide grin before nodding to the chefs. At his approval the pair leave once again a group of waiters filing in to deliver the same plates to the rest of his guests. You watch them as they work, taking their distraction to stare at the tables you noted. As the lone woman gets her food you notice one of the chefs specifically gives her a special flute of wine. She raises the glass in Alphonso's direction and he nods to her. 

The remaining two tables are treated normally so you watch the table with the man and woman first. You note that they spend their time speaking quietly, completely ignoring the plates they are given. Only the glasses of champagne they have refilled again are touched at all. Watching them speak you realize there are sharp fangs where canines would be. These two are vampires which means only the last table with the man and the harpy is left.

You look over to the last of the three tables watching  the man and harpy thank the staff for their food. Manners among Alphonse's company is already out of place, but definitely not a sign of hostility. Watching them talk to each other you can't help but stare at the harpy. His wings are a marble of several different browns and blacks, the darker colors reflecting with a slightly red tint. Watching him speak your trail, your eye's over his sharp jawline, lingering on soft looking lips before you switch your attention.

When you finally set your sights on the other man, you catch his eyes immediately. He had been watching you as your eyes wandered over the harpy. Keeping eye contact with him is easy, you tilt your head up slightly, a show of acknowledgement, but you exhale a small breath of heat. It's a nearly invisible wave of steam that rolls over your parted lips and through the bars of your muzzle. It's a dragon's warning, one you know he can see clearly. One that tells him you see exactly what he is and that you're standing your ground.

Surprisingly, he lowers his head in a quick bow, acknowledging your territory. Normally the people that try any assault are either full of fear or boiling anger. You take in his face for a moment longer, memorizing the facial hair over his jaw, the almost permanent furrow of his brow, and the way his dark eyes hold your gaze without malice. When he breaks eye contact you watch him turn to the harpy and exchange a few words.

You barely hear over the murmur of the crowd, though you're sure he chuckles. As they finish talking the harpy's dark eyes slide over to meet yours. Soft and dark much like his companion's. Though from this distance your eyes still catch the slivers of gold that run through them. You can't help but tilt your head curiously at the view which brings a smile to his lips. At that you break your stare to continue scanning the rest of the room as Alphonso eats behind you. The two men exchange glances again but you don't notice, keeping your focus on your duties now that you've examined them.

A hand trails over the strip of fur over the top of your tail and you glance over your shoulder. Alphonso is giving you a pleased smirk as he leans back in his seat. He tugs your tail back roughly, pulling you into his lap. You've already expected it, your wings spreading out over the opposite arm rest to catch yourself slightly as you settle on his lap, eyes trained on his face. 

It’s not long until the entire team is gathered in the main room of their temporary base, all gawking at Price after he summons his disguise with Laswell’s scroll. She definitely spared no expense, calling up the best magic users in her arsenal. The spellwork immediately took hold, its power obvious as not only did it hide Price’s features it completely changed his form right in front of them. Keeping his height relatively the same meant a fae cover, his scales fading into a soft blue shimmer over his skin. His wings, tail, and claws are all gone. The only thing left that looked remotely similar to Price’s actual form was the long pointed ears, making Price feel unbalanced.

“The best magic money can buy.” Price mutters under his breath as he realizes his entire core has shifted from a fiery blaze into an anchor, connecting him to the earth below him. Laswell has explained to him how fae magic was connected to nature. How it was grounded to the earth, yet it was a completely different thing to experience it first hand. It was as if the air and ground itself was reaching out to him, tugging on invisible strings that ran through his entire being.

After taking a minute to adjust himself, Price finally looks around to his team to find them all staring unabashed. Ghost glaring, Gaz and Roach grinning like fools, and Soap with his brow furrowed in confusion. “Tha’ thing even changed yer’ scent cap. Where’d Lazwell fish this shit outta’?” Price shakes his head, stretching out his fingers under his gaze. “You know her Soap. She keeps hers under strict lock n’ key.” He rolls his shoulders, stretching out his limbs and feeling the odd lack of muscles where his wings would be.

The group doesn't take much longer to admire Price’s disguise as they set about moving their equipment and loading up their vehicles. A single trip is all they need to get everyone in place as Gaz and Price get dressed up before getting into the back of a small black limousine with Roach at the wheel. As Ghost and Soap set up at their vantage points it all becomes a waiting game to see if the pieces fall into like they mean them to. The two sit in the back in an odd silence, Gaz practically staring holes into Price’s entire being.

Price sighs and shakes his head as he looks Gaz in the eye. “Birdy. If I let ya take a picture can we stop all this now, hm?” Gaz grins wide. “You for real cap’?” “If it’ll settle you down, yes.” Excitedly, Gaz grabs his bag from under his seat, fishing out his phone. This was definitely a moment he had to savor and he wasn’t about to miss this. Rare was the chance to see the captain of the 141 dressed down as a civilian. A fancy three piece all in a deep blue shade, his dragon features gone, hair done up all nice without any kind of cap. Of course all of them loved his normal looks, but this? This was a sight to behold.

“Y’know I’m fairly sure I saw Soap droolin’ over you.” Price huffs out a laugh, his elbow on the limo’s window and his hand in his palm as he watches Gaz reset his phone. “Not like you’re much better there Garrick.” Gaz laughs wholeheartedly as he finally unlocks his phone, pulling up his camera and leaning back in his seat in an over exaggerated show. He angles the photo several times with a cheeky grin that leaves Price shaking his head. “Garrick-“ “Okay, okay! I got it. You look good all done up cap, but I do gotta say that I prefer you with your wings for sure.”

“Right then. Get that shut down now. Shouldn’t be long til we get there.” Gaz nods, setting the phone to off once again and putting it back into his pack as he settles back down into his seat with his ankles crossed. Price lets out a hum and clears his throat. “Now remember. We’re goin’ in as Zander Rights and August Moore. We’re looking for a foothold to bring out deals over to Velez’s territory before branching off further down the coast.” Both of them have a steely look in their eyes as they continue to go over the details of their ruse and not long after they reach the warehouse.

Lines of fancy cars and limos flow up to the gates, their passengers exiting and passing through a small checkpoint of guards as the next cars pass through doing the same. Price presses two fingers to his throat, activating his comms with the team. “Alright then do we have eyes on the dragons?” Ghost responds from his perch on one of the roofs well behind them. “Aye cap’. The big one's posted up on the roof of the main building. The others making ‘is rounds, should be comin’ in from the back in about forty seconds.” Price looks to Gaz who's sitting up straighter, locking eyes with his captain immediately with a curt nod. Now is the make or break moment in their plan. The point where they cross paths with one dragon and find out if the glamor actually works under the eye of another dragon.

Their car is next as the driver stops and exits, opening their doors and waiting patiently for Price and Gaz to exit before taking off to the parking area just around the back of the building. Just like clockwork a group of armed guards steps out from around the corner of the building, led by a dragon hybrid even taller than Price. An absolute wall of muscle that radiates anger, a scowl seemingly frozen on his face as he leads his group while a critical eye scans over the crowd ahead of them. His gaze only hovers over the duo for only a few seconds but it feels like hours as they mentally hold their breath. The group moves on like normal, guaranteeing Price and Gaz’s spot in Velez’s hall.

Price deals with the invitation, handing it off to the doorman as they are checked off of the guest list and greeted warmly. The hall itself is heavily decorated, a stark contrast to the heavily guarded exterior, golden silk banners decorating the walls and tables while attendees chatter softly. A babble of idle chatter continues around the two as they settle into a table near the back of the hall. They scan the room covertly, eyes passing over the others, taking note of several prominent figures, most of which are mass arms dealers. Not surprisingly there are suspected human traffickers, several drug manufacturers, and a group of black magic users with mafia ties. Price makes a mental note of names and faces, preparing to fill out the paperwork to tie all of them to this event.

Gaz freezes for a second before putting on a charming grin, a hand resting on Price’s forearm in a signal, a red flag of uncertainty. Price takes the cue and leans closer to the harpy. “It’s lookin’ to be a full house, hm?” He mutters, the idle chat meant to cover anything they have to discuss. Gaz nods, eyes glancing over the crowd but looking to the center of the room, Price’s eyes follow once he looks away. “Very interesting faces. Might just need to expand our connections.” He responds smoothly, keeping their conversation natural as they both realize an issue in their planning. A third dragon hybrid lounging on a mock stage eyes slowly scanning the room.

Their idle chat continues, playing up their roles while keeping an eye on their new concern. Both glance at the entrance as a sharp whistle cuts through the chatter. The main target of their mission, Alphonso Velez, is striding in with a group following like sheep behind him. His eyes lock on the stage as he watches the dragon with an almost predatory gaze. It’s easy to put together that the stage at the center is Velez’s throne. A spot in the room where he can lord over his people and have all eyes on him. He steps through the crowd, eyes never leaving the dragon for long as he laughs and chats with those he passes by up until he gets to the edge of the stage. ”Stiff competition.” Gaz drops in their conversation, drawing Price’s attention back to the dragon. They’re now sitting on the arm of the chair, watching Velez intently and sitting up so straight it’s obviously a trained behavior. Gaz can practically feel the strain in his own wings from how they sit, stretched out and on display.

“Pretty clean idea this party.” he mutters as their magical connection to Soap activates. “Squeaky clean.” Soap's response rings in both of their heads, leaving them a minute to respond without the threat of their spell being discovered. “We’ve got another dragon in here. Switch Roach to standby on immediate evac.” Gaz mentally responds quickly. “Bleedin’ hell- He’s headin’ back out now.” Their connection disperses as Soap drops it on his end to inform the others of their new predicament knowing that if this dragon points them out then it’s all over.

Gaz can’t help the double take he makes at the stage as Velez has now settled behind the dragon. Eyes drawn by the movement Price also looks just in time to see the dragon’s tail curl around Velez and settle in his lap. They both watch as the man’s fingers tangle into the chains of their muzzle possessively. Price forces down a soft growl that threatens to leave his throat before looking away, muttering a curse under his breath. Gaz eyes Price for a second before picking up their idle chatter again as a distraction for both of them at this point.

It’s not much longer until everyone in the hall is seated and a set of chefs quickly scurry up to Velez’s stage, showing off a set of dishes for his approval before rushing back out. A wave of servers walks in as the chefs disappear and move trays and wines around the room and Gaz makes a mental note of the handful of tables that are served with extra care and give various forms of gratitude to Velez personally. Several plates are set in front of the pair, Gaz nodding with a smile while Price takes his glass with a few polite words of thanks.

Gaz sees the way Price’s eyes flick to the stage for a second, watching him tap a finger beside his plate, a sign to keep his eyes down, before he picks up their idle chatter again. “But it really is a lovely night. Must be a wonder sight seein’ in this city.” Gaz is hyper aware now of the prickle over the back of his neck as he’s now faced with the confirmation that the dragon's eyes are on them. The surprise comes after a few more lines of conversation, Price leaning back in his seat. “Perhaps we take a souvenir or two.” Slowly Gaz’s focus trails over Price, realizing how his captain’s eyes are locked on the stage.

Interestingly enough, Price notes, not only had the dragon not sounded the alarm on them, but had been watching Gaz with an intense stare. He can see the way their eyes trace over the harpy slowly, more curious than suspicious as a guard should be. It makes him wonder just how integrated this new addition is to Velez’s collection. After a moment longer he watches their eyes slide over to his own and Price arches a stream of heat leaving their mouth, a direct display. A warning display of a dragon acknowledging another dragon in its territory. Price responds calmly, slowly giving a polite bow of his head and watching them before he yields,breaking their stare to turn his attention back to Gaz.

The harpy lets out a quiet breath that he had unconsciously been holding. “Don’t think we have time for window shoppin’.” Gaz mutters as Price flashes him a grin. “Come on now lad. It’d do us some good to get a better look o’ the city.” Price doesn’t need any code word to know that Gaz was fully prepared for the worst outcome and can’t help but chuckle now that the threat has passed despite the incredulous look he’s shot.

Around you many of his guests stare and you all but ignore all of them. You keep your chin up, staring at the rafters once again. Do exactly what you were trained to do. Grit and bare the looks you get and the hands of your owner that trail over your knee and thigh absentmindedly. You've dealt with this over and over again, and you'll continue to deal with it as long as you're here. As long as you belong to Alphonso.

The worst part of it all was still when he allowed his associates to touch you. When he let them line up to get their hands on you. Greedy hands brushing through the fur on your wings and tail. Those closer to him he allows more intimate touches. Those more important guests are able to see you as you strip off your fancy silks and satins. Left in nothing but your tight underwear, lacy tank top and short briefs that lay low on your waist.

He usually leads them, pulling you down to your knees by the chains on your muzzle or collar. Keeping you between his legs he allows them to run their hands over your exposed body. They rub over where scales meet flesh, too many fingers tangling in the streak of fur that follows your spine. A select few would slide eager fingers over and into the edges of your underwear. Those touches still sent a chill down your spine and the sting of bile up the back of your throat.

It's easy to recall the time you first fell into Alphonso's hands. The first few months he kept you all to himself, breaking you in as you fought back. Heavy chains and straps always kept him just out of reach of your claws. In those times he kept your mouth fully covered with muzzles made fully of steels and metals, your teeth would snap behind them uselessly. For two months you fought him, each time your punishments getting worse and worse.

Bindings tightened. Dark rooms where he kept you isolated and hungry. When your fits had been at their worst he'd have you pinned down, your limbs immovable. He knew the slowest and most painful way to remove scales, claws, and fangs. Always pulling from the same spot after they'd regrow, relishing in your extra pain from the fresh growth. It broke you down after the third month. Three months of blood and tears. Three months of sobbing and anger. Three months of being forced into a mold to become the perfect pet for the mafia head.

You had no one to get back to after all. Your family would be the first ones to pay the price if you ever actually escaped. There was no love lost there, but you understood what happened. Understood the bleakness of all of your futures if Alphonso didn't get exactly what he wanted. So you played the role he forced you into. Became his attack dog, his lap cat. Followed every order to the letter ro win his praise.

Now here you are, sitting in his lap like the pet you've become. Answering every one of his demands no matter how outrageous just to avoid his wrath. It's easier now to ignore the eyes, the hands, the cold voices talking about you like an animal. You've spent so long tuning it all out while he totted you around, just like you do now, staring up at the rafters as if they were bars to the cage your life has become.

When everything from your sleep to your exercise has been dictated it's easy to fall into an autopilot. You've gotten to a point where you can tune out all voices but his, can focus only on his scent, but today is different. Somewhere on the edge of your consciousness you feel a pull. A little tug that threatens to pull your focus back to your surroundings and onto something other than Alphonso’s call. More than a scent, or a voice, it's something that tugs on your mind itself, pulling you to look in the direction of the other dragon and his harpy.

Your vision comes back into focus and you can't help but slowly glance that way. When your eyes finally settle on them again it confuses you to see concern from the bigger man, his brow furrowed even more as he watches you carefully. The harpy conceals it well, no one else would notice, but you see anger, though it's not directed at you. Following the line of his vision you know he's looking past you, at Alphonso. You know that sense is somehow coming from both of them, and you're about to give into it, about to turn to look at them directly, when Alphonso clears his throat and has your full attention.

Your eyes shift back to his face as you watch him talk. He thanks the crowd for attending and rattles on about his plans. Letting them know a vague outline of his manufacturing, subtle details and hints mean those who know the plans are reassured and those who shouldn't are kept in the dark. He has your full attention as he talks yet you feel that same odd sense again. That same pulling desire to give your attention to the two men across the dining room. For now you keep yourself in line and focused on Alphonso.

His speech finishes and the crowd claps lightly. In your peripherals you catch a blur of movement, and you know exactly what it is. Snapping your head towards the source you react in a split second. Launching yourself off the seat, using your wings to lift your weight off Alphonso before springing into action. A gunman rushes forward, shotgun in hand as they sprint to get a good shot.

You’re used to these attempts by now, though what you’re not used to is a smaller blur of movement. The gunner stumbles forward, their speed broken as one of their knees buckles forward, a gasp of surprise leaving their mouth as you continue to bound towards them. Grabbing the gun’s barrel you knock it upwards, kicking at its wielder's chest with enough force to drop them backwards. They cling onto their weapon desperately but you slam the butt of their gun into their face hard enough for them to lose their grip.

As they fall you press a knee to their chest, your wings flaring backwards as you drive your weight into them. Your clawed hands dig into their shoulders and they cry out in pain as your thumbs dig into their neck hard enough to draw blood. You hear Alphonso laughing loudly and clapping as you glare down at the would-be assassin.

“Well now ladies and gentlemen! Isn't this nice? Dinner and a show!” You hear mummers mixed with a few chuckles around you as your focus stays on your quarry. They struggle in vain under you, calloused hands gripping at your wrists as they squirm fruitlessly. Out of the corner of your eye you catch something falling from behind the leg they stumbled on. Something thin and pointed, made up of several brown shades with a slight glint of red.

Behind you Alphonso's footfalls ring out as he gets closer to you, his hand falling on your head, patting you.

“Good boy.” He raises his arm, a signal for his regular guards to approach as he laughs again.

Price marches over to the meeting room, a steady plume of smoke rising from the cigar between his lips. Barging into the room he lifts his chin, his tail swaying

gently behind him as he counts all his boys present. Ghost cross armed against the back wall. Gaz sits near the front of the

table, legs crossed on his seat. Soap sits across him, arms crossed behind his head. Lastly, Roach sits just in front of where Ghost stands, picking at his knuckles.

“Right then boys, it's an infalteration.”He says as he moves to the head of the table. The projector clicks on as he wakes up a laptop while he sits. 

"As you all know Los Panteros have been working off the coast for several months now. We've traced them back from Las Vegas and have finally been able to track their leader, Alphonse Velez. He's hosting a party at the end of this month and we're going in.” Price looks around as the others all nod or grunt in agreement. Soap is the first one to sit up and say something.

“A’right then cap’. When we doin’ this?” 

“We’re movin’ to set up recon in two weeks. Roach’ll be on overwatch with you as an escort. There known to have infernal sigils up so Ghost’ll have ta be backup while Gaz and I go undercover.”

“Cap!”  “Wai’ a sec-” “You?”

Price’s hand raises as all of them speak up at once. “Aye’ easy now you lot.”

“But sir, they’re known dragon dealers! You would be at too much of a risk!” Gaz has his palms down on the table, his wings flaring up as he speaks up.

“Right. Which is why Laswell’s got a spellcaster to cook up a disguise spell. The two dragons ‘es got are always patrolling outside, so Gaz’s scent will cover us enough to get in jus’ fine.” The rest of the room settles slowly as he presses on with his explanation.

“No more fuss now lads. We stick to the plan, get our intel, ‘n everything ‘ll be right as rain.” Soap's pointed ears pin back to his head and Gaz's feathers stay roused. Theres a low humming growl in the back of Roach’s throat as Ghost steps up behind him squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. 

“If things do go south we all move in. We aint leavin’ without makin’ sure yer outta there cap.” Price gives Ghost a nod as his gaze softens, looking from him to Roach.

“We move together. This is just recon fer now. Should be no noise so long as we stick to the plans.” The tension in the room slowly simmers back down, Price stepping over to Gaz.

“Come now birdie.” He rests a hand on the back of the harpy’s neck. “You'll be right there with me.” Gaz relaxes into the touch, his feathers smoothing out as he looks Price in the eye. His feathers ruffle up softly this time as he nods along with Price's reassurances.

"Aye cap. Up ta me ta keep ya’ safe then, yeah?” Various laughs and chuckles sound out around the room. Price crouches down to get eye to eye with him. One hand settles on Gaz's knee, the other cupping his cheek, clawed finger tips tickling his neck.

"Ata’ boy. We run this tight, get in an’

out, ‘n flush out the rats.” Gaz's wings settle on his back as he leans into Price's hand. He nods again and Price steps up to his feet again.

“Alright then. Rehearsal time lads.” Headed back to the head of the table he flips the laptop to the next slide. “The compound we've linked ‘im to is just off the North coast. Looks like a warehouse but the inside is modified into what looks like a dining hall. With what we've uncovered we know the dragons under his command are used as guards. They patrol outside during events, starting an hour before and staying out two hours after each one.” He looks over at them, catching each of their glances to make sure there are no questions. 

“Gaz ‘n I'll have false identities that Lazwell an’ ‘er team have been cultivating. Weapons dealers from overseas, setting up in the U.S. much like Alphonso has done ‘imself. I want you you all ta keep yer wits about you.We’ve got two weeks between then and now so lets get prepped for the usual.”

“Understood cap.” “Yssir.” “Right.” They all sound off their agreements, Roach even letting off several clicks of approval. They discuss ammo stocks before breaking off separately. Roach heads off with Ghost leaving Soap and Gaz to set up their restock. Price watches them go with a smile on his lips, his tail swaying contently as he lets off another puff of his cigar.. 

The weeks pass quickly, all of them keeping busy and triple checking their equipment until they finally pooled their vehicles. It only takes

about eight hours to drive to their temporary base, and setup only took another half hour. Soap and Roach focus on their electronics. Tapping into city cameras and setting up their comms. They take extra care to keep them all connected, making sure each line has a strong connection tied to communication spells as a backup.

Once it's all set up they spend the rest of the day in each other's company. Price does his best to keep the nerves down, but even with his constant reassurance and firm touches Ghost and Roach are on edge. He finds them scanning over the surveillance cameras for what could probably be the fifth or sixth time in the hour. He sets his hands on both of Ghost’s shoulders, squeezing gently and he rests his chin on the other's head.

“Easy there boys, nothins guna’ change enough for either of you to be stressin’ this much. Take a breather Si, I need both a you to save it for tomorrow night.” Roach lets off a few low chirping sounds as Ghost leans back into Price’s touch. He reaches over to Roach, his hand gently squeezing the back of his neck. 

“You’ve done more than enough for now. Take a breather fer now.” Ghost sighs but relents, turning his chair from the monitors and facing Price. 

“It’d be much easier ta relax if they didn’t have sigils up. Can’t see a damn thing through those fuckin’ walls. These are strong enough to block scents too so once Gaz and you are in there I’m cut off.” Roach trills softly, setting a hand on Ghost’s arm.

“I know, I know, but we don’t have any way of countering these sigils without our cover bein’ blown. Our comms are reinforced with sending spells so we got ears at all times. Like I said, we stick to the plan an’ theyll be nuthin ta worry about.” Ghost gives a nod and takes a deep breath. “Now cmon, the both of ya’.” Price pulls the two of them up from their seats, a hand on both of their backs leading them to the sofa that Gaz and Soap have already sprawled out on. They all shift around, Ghost ending up with Soap over his lap, Price leaning on an arm rest, legs over the length of the sofa with Gaz and Roach sitting on them as they lean on each other.

It takes a loooong while for any of them to believe you about the bombs, and even longer for them to trust you enough to leave the vault with you.

It helps when you mention you had been frozen in a similar way and were a veteran before that.

Ghost and Roach are silent when they see the wastes. Price and Gaz are quick to map out their surroundings.

They ask you questions about enemies and weather patterns.

Soap is following your every step, he follows your lead completely. He asks any and all questions about your animals

A Brahmin, 2 dogs, and your young deathclaw.

He takes to the animals quickly. Surprisingly your deathclaw takes to him as well.

You’re so glad you have your animals carry extra munitions.

There arn’t many weapons left in the vault.

You’re assuming the rest of the staff took off with them, or they expected a better outcome then what the world is now.

You've read the little snippets of unredacted information you had found in the vault.

They’re a fully trained task force, and you’ve trusted way shadier folks with waaaay less training.

You get them all fully armed, though they dont leave you without payment of sorts.

They had let you take body armor from the vault since they had full access.

You're not entirely sure what all they grabbed but you arn’t about to try and take any or pry about anything.

You’re essentially an honorary member of the 141.

Is what you and Soap say. The others aren't on board that quickly.

You're on your way back to sanctuary with them, your first foothold in the wastes since you woke up.

It's a weeks’ travel so you take watch with Gaz.

You spend your time telling him what to look for, showing him the telltale signs of enemies and storms approaching.

You both hit it off after the first hour and end up chatting about your past lives.

He switches off with Soap and you insist that you don’t need much rest.

You really don’t but Soap is persuasive and you end up taking a few minutes to catch him up before resting.

There’s no issues that night, a relief to Ghost, who you are fairly sure was awoken by every passing breeze.

Soap somehow even taught your deathclaw to fetch somehow.

Your new group pulls together a breakfast from the rations they brought from the vault.

Soap and Gaz get into conversation about the animals.

Price takes this chance to talk to you more about Sanctuary.

Sanctuary has been heavily modified after you took charge from Preston.

There's more than enough space for all of them and you’d never say no to more protection for your people.

Though in your chatter you end up mentioning the Minutemen and the Castle and Price is full attention.

You start to wonder if you’d even find a single place where these guys would settle.

Because after you mention all the settlements you patrol they all chime in with questions.

All 12 settlements you have are heavily guarded, especially by wasteland standards.

They all seem impressed at the setup you’re running, even Ghost.

You take it as a huge compliment.

You go over your ideas for the wastes and they listen intently.

When you first got out you wanted to help as many folks as you could.

You did a lot and you know with certainty that you see the same desire in all of their eyes.

You explain how the commonwealth all fear the Institute.

Skipping the part about Shaun being their leader.

You've already decided he’s not your family anymore.

How can you consider him family when he’s been raised and grown by strangers? When he is a stranger himself?

You've been blocking that issue from your mind while focusing on restoring what you can of the wastes yourself.

Your efforts have proven fruitful, your deathclaw taming being a huge leap forward already.

With so many more hands your excitement mounts and the unlikely possibilities seem much more attainable now.

Of course you hit a snag in the road immediately

A rad storm is fast approaching while the lot of you are still about 3 days out from Sanctuary.

Lucky for all of you there’s an old office building in your path with a nicely sized basement because you DO NOT have enough Rad away for everyone.

Everyone sets up camp again, preparing for a couple nights of sheltering in place.

Roach approaches you this time, asking about the maps your pipboy has and you talk landscapes and terrain while he draws out an actual map.

You hope you can get your hands on more pipboys for them, but for now you keep your focus on the day ahead.