Chapter Text
Trent Brenner walked along the ragged edge of the cliff carefully, gripping his SC-10 tightly. Looking around, he sighed.
Putting his hand to his ear, he flicked his com.
“Clark, do you have anything?” He asked, and the answer came a moment later
“Nada. There’s nothing in my sector. I just checked with Ryan. Nothing over there, either.” He informed, and Trent dropped his hand with a hard sigh, then nodded.
“Yeah. I’m gonna continue the sweep in my area. I’m almost done. Then I’ll meet you all at the rendezvous.”
The chatter came to him quickly. “Okay, Trent. We’ll see you soon.” Clark’s com faded out, and Trent stopped walking, staring out at the barren wasteland.
No Man’s Land. The dangerous part of the country now.
Thirteen and a half years ago the space weapons station ODIN fired on America, and the Federation forces aimed to take the country away from them.
But the Ghosts rose against the challenge.
After training the best soldiers, the Ghosts began the assault. And in two years, they defeated the leader of the Federation, Gabriel Rorke.
But they lost many, many Ghosts along the way.
Two being the brother and best friend of their new leader, Captain Logan Walker. His brother, David Walker, was killed at the hands of a traitor. Keegan was killed in an assault on the military base of Westpoint by the very Ghost who now swore his allegiance to Logan. Corporal Trent Brenner.
But the amends were made, although sharp and painful. Trent was now one of the best soldiers Logan had seen, and he held him in high respect.
Now, the Ghosts had a new mission: rid America of any remaining Federation soldiers and keep the people protected.
Granted, they had done so before, but with only a single target. Now the Ghosts were spread across the country, each small group assigned a quadrant. Keeping the country safe was their main goal, their second being keeping the country going. It had fallen to its knees at the firing of ODIN and was in shambles since. But the Ghosts planned to change that. They would bring America back from the depths and make it whole again.
So in the South Los Angeles sector stood Corporal Trent Brenner, looking over one of the hundreds of crevices and faults created from the blasts. His heart beat strongly as he swept his gaze around, searching for any signs of life in the godforsaken, broken down city.
Buildings crumbling, roads destroyed, lives taken.
Brenner shook his head. “There’s nothing here. There’s never anything here. No one is ever near-”
His voice stopped when he heard a slight sound to his right, and he spun around to see a shadow move quickly in the broken building behind him. His eyes narrowed, and he started towards the structure. The shadow moved again, and his eyes widened when he saw the shape was that of a man.
He shook his head, then started running after them, vaulting over the half-broken wall.
“Wait! What are you doing out here?!” He shouted, then the sound of running feet stopped, and as Trent came round the corner he stopped short as he stared into the huge, bright green eyes staring back at him.
The young boy, about fourteen, met his gaze, shaking in fear. He was rather tall for his age, and had dark shortly cut hair, a sharp, handsome face, and a scar above his right eye. He wore a grey tattered thin jacket over an army green shirt, grey cargo shorts and tan sneakers. A small necklace hung around his neck, and a leather bracelet wrapped his right wrist.
Trent clipped his gun to his belt then pulled down his mask. He crouched down, then smiled kindly.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” He said gently, and the boy’s shaking lessened. He stepped towards Trent a bit, then stopped, staring at him again, still not saying a word. Trent sighed, then his chest tightened when he saw the blood dripping down the side of the boy’s head and staining the young boy’s side.
He frowned. “You’re hurt. I can help you. What’s your name?” He asked softly, and the boy bit his lip, then clenched his fists and stood up straight.
“My name is Axel.” He said with a solid voice, his fear from moments ago having had melted away.
Trent nodded with a smile. “I’m Corporal Trent Brenner."
Axel glanced at the gun on Trent’s belt, then to the mask around his neck. “You’re a Ghost?” He asked plainly, and Trent nodded. Axel sighed, then walked up to Brenner as he rose to his feet.
“You said you can help me? How?” He asked, and Trent outstretched his hand.
“Come with me to the rendezvous point. The other Ghosts will meet you, and we can help you find your parents.” Trent said, but Axel shook his head.
“You won’t find them. They’re dead. The feds killed them.” He stated plainly, and Trent’s eyes widened.
This young boy’s parents were murdered by the Federation?
Trent took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. “I’m sorry about that, kid. But the Ghosts can still help you. I’ll talk to my Captain. Maybe he’ll let me take you under my wing.” He said, and Axel’s eyes widened.
“What? You mean, like, as a soldier?!” He exclaimed, and Trent nodded.
“My Captain will probably understand. He and his brother were turned into soldiers at a young age. Though not as young as you. C’mon. Let’s head out.” He said, and Axel followed closely at Trent’s side, walking strong and tall.
Trent glanced down at him as he unclipped his gun and held it at the ready.
“Axel, what’s your last name?” He asked, and Axel gave him a quick glance to the side.
“Montoya. Axel Montoya.” He gave, and Trent nodded. He then heard his com beep, and he put up his hand for Axel to stop, which the boy did immediately.
Trent put his finger to his ear. “Brenner.”
A heavy breath met him through the radio. “Trent, where the hell are you?! We’re at the rendezvous point and you’re not here.” Clark said, and Trent sighed, closing his eyes.
“Ran into a little situation. Headed back now.”
Before Clark could ask more, Trent turned off his com, then spun to Axel.
“We have to get moving. My team is wondering where I am.” He said, and Axel gave him a small smirk.
“You’re the boss here. Lead the way.” He answered, and Trent raised his eyebrow with a grin, then turned to start running along the ravine. Axel followed right on his heel, then his eyes widened when he saw the group of soldiers standing near a transport truck.
“Are those the other Ghosts?” He asked, and Trent nodded.
“Yeah.” He then whistled, and Clark looked up as Trent ran over to them.
“Where the hell have you been, Trent? Logan was-”
He stopped when he saw Axel, and his eyebrow rose. “Trent... who’s this?” He asked harshly, and Trent turned his head to Axel, who looked up at him.
“Axel Montoya. I found him alone over on the left side of the chasm.” He replied, and Clark frowned as Ryan walked over. He looked Axel up and down as Axel gave him a judgemental look.
“How old are ya, kid?” He asked, and Axel frowned.
“Fourteen years old. The only reason Brenner here found me is because my parents were killed three days ago by a passing Federation posse.” He said coldly, and all the soldiers’ eyes widened.
Axel glanced to the side with narrowed eyes. “They slaughtered them like animals, then came for me. I was upstairs, but I heard the yelling. I started down the stairs, then I saw the bloody bodies of my mum and dad, the Feds standing over them, and the two aiming guns at me. I ran.”
He sighed, then closed his eyes. “After almost a mile, I finally lost them. Then, the next day, another found me. He tackled me to the ground and started beating me. Managed a few cuts at me.” Axel gestured to the blood stain on his side and another on his arm. Clark’s eyes widened. Axel nodded with a deep breath. “But I got the knife away from him, then used it to put him down. They killed my parents, so I’ll kill them.” He stated harshly, and the three Ghosts shared a stunned look. Then a voice behind them made them turn.
“Axel, you’re a much tougher kid than you look.”
Axel stared at the man walking towards him. He had a Ghosts mask that covered his whole face except for two eye holes, which sported bright blue eyes. The man’s grey and black tactical uniform bore the Captain insignia, and two pairs of dog tags hung around his neck.
He pulled off his mask and Axel was met with a kind but still authoritative grin. The man was about twenty-nine years old. He had dirty blonde hair, a scar along his sharp jawline, and a young but experienced face. He stopped in front of Axel and smirked, crossing his arms.
“So you took out a Fed all by yourself, huh?” He asked, and Axel nodded, still sporting his frustrated frown.
“Yeah. I did. And I’ll gladly take out as many as I can.” he told, and the man smirked again.
“Would you?” He chuckled, then met Axel’s eyes. “My name is Logan Walker. Captain of the Western Ghost Squad.” He informed, and Axel’s eyes widened.
“Wait, YOU'RE Captain Logan Walker?! You’re about eight years younger than these guys!” He exclaimed, and Trent crossed his arms.
“Age doesn’t matter when you have experience. Remember when I told you that Logan and his brother were made soldiers at a young age? Logan was only sixteen.” He told, and Axel’s eyes widened. Then he raised his eyebrow.
“Wait, you said you and your brother. Where’s your brother?” He asked, and the four men fell silent.
Trent and Logan shared a gaze, then Logan looked back down at Axel.
“Dead. My older brother was killed almost two years ago, at the hands of a traitor from our forces, working for the Federation.” He took a breath, letting it out slowly. “He’ll always be with me, though. Hesh taught me to be a soldier. He was eighteen when we became soldiers, and he led me through everything. I owe it all to him.” He explained, and Axel nodded, then raised his eyebrows.
“So are those his dog tags?” He asked, and Logan glanced down, putting a hand to the tags around his neck, then looked back up to nod.
“Yeah. These were David's.” He replied, then he looked up at Trent.
“You want to take him as a soldier?” He asked, and Trent nodded.
“He’s strong, and if you haven’t noticed, the kid knows how to survive. And he’s observant. He could be a real good soldier if we train him.” He said, and Axel’s eyes lit up.
Logan glanced back down at Axel with a grin. “You want to be a soldier? Are you willing to risk your life to protect our country against the men who forced it to its knees?” He asked, and Axel stood up straight, then nodded.
“Yes, sir.” He answered, and Logan smirked.
“Private Montoya, welcome to the Western Ghosts.”