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Contrary to popular belief, Smoke’s decision to join Nighthaven wasn’t done on a whim. On the contrary, he received the offer a long time ago and he mulled over it, thought long and hard, and eventually decided that yes, it was his best option. Then he delayed relaying this information to the rest of his team, because there was no use in upsetting them so early, right? It was better to not let them dwell on it for long, to save himself headaches and bitterness hurled at him. However, when the time to give the news came, it wasn’t any easier to face their contempt.
“You what?!” Thatcher roared, looking like he’d been punched in the gut.
“Cut the jokes, lad, this isn’t funny,” Sledge said almost at the same time, a deep frown on his face.
On his end, Mute was living up to his callsign and looking at Smoke like he just sprouted a second head. If he was honest with himself, Smoke knew the team would take his decision badly, that was the reason he delayed telling them. Yet he had hoped they would at least give him a chance to explain. That they would try to understand his reasons. But all he got was disdain and cold glares. So much for Thatcher’s talk of the SAS being like a family.
"Aren't you tired of serving Queen and Country, mate? Don't you want some change, to spice things up?"
Because that was the crux of the matter. Rainbow had been a wonderful experience, but it had become stifling over time. So many rules, and that was just for training. So much paperwork. And routine. It all felt too comfortable, too much like settling in for the long haul. And that was equal parts boring and terrifying. So when Kali came along, promising freedom and shiny new toys, Smoke listened.
However, he realised that was the wrong thing to ask, especially with Thatcher in the room. He turned a rather interesting shade of red, almost purple, before exploding. "I am proud of serving Queen and Country, you fookin' twat! And so were you, until Kali started eating your ear with all that Nighthaven tosh."
Smoke should have expected that. After all, Thatcher was too set in his ways, too rigid. He decided Sledge was a lost cause as well, due to his closeness and loyalty to the old man. So he turned towards Mute, because if one of them would be able to understand him, that would be Chandar.
"C'mon Mark, you're smart and ambitious too. Surely you know that urge to reach higher."
"We're already at the top, there's no 'higher' to reach." Mute crossed his arms over his chest, before spitting out, "And if there was, sure as hell it wouldn't be Kali's group."
"Sour grapes much, Marky?" Smoke barked a humourless laugh. "You're jealous they never reached out to you. Surely that hurt your genius boy ego, didn't it? Otherwise you'd jump at the chance."
"Jump at the chance to see their equipment and take notes? Yes, without a doubt. Joining them, though?" Mute shook his head and grimaced. "I'm not stupid enough to even consider it."
To Smoke, this was the final nail in the coffin for this conversation. They didn't understand him; never did in all honesty, but at least they tolerated him when he was part of the SAS. Now that he was leaving, he was just an outsider and a possible threat. Fine, if that's how it was going to be, then Smoke would treat them the same way.
“Should have imagined all of you would turn into a pack of rabid dogs as soon as I showed some initiative instead of being a bootlicker,” he scoffed.
“Are you sure you’re not licking Kali’s arse instead?” Mute shot back, angrier than Smoke had ever seen him.
His comeback earned him an approving look from Thatcher, who stood closer to him. Big surprise, Thatcher had a soft spot for Mute, maybe because he was the youngest of the team. No matter how curt or uninterested Mute was in whatever Thatcher said, he got away with it with minimal nagging, while others would get a lecture.
“We all have moments of weakness,” Sledge said, always playing the good cop to Thatcher’s bad cop. Taking into account how brutishly he acted at times, when he was being himself and not Thatcher’s second in command, it was laughable how ill fitted he was to the role of the middleman. Still, Sledge always tried. “But there’s no need to do anything rash. Sit on it for a while, think of what you’re doing.”
“Don’t act stupid Seamus, I already told you it’s a done deal. There’s nothing to think about.” Smoke had done his thinking, had listened to Kali, and looked around Nighthaven’s workshop, and talked with her operators. Most importantly, Smoke wanted this, wanted to run wild once more. If his ex-teammates - ex-family, his brain supplied with a twinge of sadness - couldn’t understand that, it wasn’t Smoke’s fault they were dead inside. “So I guess this is goodbye.”
Nobody answered. He turned around and walked towards the door, and just as he was about to open it, Thatcher called out to him. “Porter. If you cross that door, you are dead to me. To us.”
Funny how Smoke could hear the unsaid don’t leave us , the real meaning beneath the posturing and threats. But of course the old man would never beg like that, and even if he did, Smoke didn’t want to remain with a team that would rather keep him chained like a dog than let him stretch his wings.
He hesitated for a second before crossing the threshold, memories assaulting him. They had faced so much together, fought as a team and protected each other. It stung to know how little that mattered in the end. And so Smoke stepped out of the room without sparing his ex-teammates a last glance, ready to go with his new team. His new family. Of course, he would miss the tossers he called his team for a while, it was only natural, but Smoke likened to the ghostly itch from an amputated limb - even if you thought you could feel it, it was no longer there, and it would never be again. The nagging feeling in the back of his mind wasn’t regret, Smoke kept telling himself, it was excitement for starting this new chapter in his life.
When Kali greeted him with a knowing smirk, and a reassurance that he only needed to be loyal to himself -and her- Smoke was ready to embrace her ways and her team.