Work Text:
“Chop, you make all my dreams come true.” Price crooned, cradling the grenade launcher she’d just handed him.
“Only the best for my boys.” She grinned and winked, her southern drawl adding a charming twang to her voice.
The Taskforce had landed at an American military base in Germany on a resupply stopover before carrying onward to their destination. Delivering their new cargo was the base’s Supply Corps officer—SuppO for short—a short and slightly rounded navy lieutenant in her fifties. She was well loved by locals and visitors alike for her grandmotherly good nature, and was suspiciously good at sourcing special items.
She had a name tag pinned to her uniform, but it was ignored by everyone. Instead, everyone preferred to call her by the traditional SuppO nickname, Chop. Short for Pork Chop.
“So you’ve got your launchers,” the lieutenant pointed to a stack of weapon crates with her clipboard. “We’ve also new rifles and accessories for each of you, and they’re on pallets and being loaded onto the plane right now. Here’s your manifest for those.” Chop unclipped a sheet of paper from her clipboard and offered it to Price.
Price took the sheet, letting out a low whistle as he read through the list. Soap set down the grenade launcher he had been fondling, and stepped to peer over Price’s shoulder at the paper.
“Does that say XM11?” Soap asked, glancing over at Chop. A pleased grin spread across her face. “As in, the XM11 rifle that’s not supposed to be ready until next year?”
Ghost was standing at the back, slowly flipping through the disassembly and cleaning instructions that had come in the crate with the grenade launcher. He perked up at Soap’s mention of the rifle, his face obscured by a skull-printed balaclava and black sunglasses.
“That’s right! The supplier sent over an early batch; they wanted to get some hands-on feedback from troops. Thought you might want to be first ones to try them out.”
“Nice.” Ghost said, the faintest touch of delight in his voice. He returned the paper booklet of instructions to the weapons crate, then walked up to stand next to Price. The captain handed Ghost one of the papers for him to review.
“You are my favourite person. Ever. Of all time.” Soap stared at Chop like she was some figment of wonder. “Even more than him.” He jerked his head at Price, nudging him in the ribs.
“Didn’t even know I was in the running.” The older man grunted.
“Aside from all the fun toys, there’s also the standard stuff: rations, tools, radios, miscellaneous medical supplies. You’ll be able to set up a fully functioning little base with all the gear you’re getting.” Chop unclipped another sheet and handed it over to Price. “It’ll be on the plane in time for departure.”
“Any chance you got some of those special items I mentioned last time?” Price asked, his voice hushed as he held the papers up to shield his face from Soap. Chop laughed at his attempt at secrecy, and Ghost stopped reading the supply manifest to glance at him.
“I managed to squirrel some away in the big pallet. Go digging, you’ll find them.” She said, her voice just as quiet as she hid her mouth behind a hand.
“You’re a godsend.” Price sounded relieved.
“You’re damn right I am. You know how hard it is to get those things this time of year? I had an easier time getting the dang rifles.”
Price stepped forward and clutched the older woman’s hands in his, squeezing them appreciatively.
“And I adore you for that.” He said, genuine affection in his voice. Chop just laughed, making a show of fawning over Price’s attention.
“What, more cigars?” Soap asked, an eyebrow raised. Price saw Chop open her mouth to respond and quickly made to cut her off.
“Yes, more cigars. Needed to stock up.” He said awkwardly, too quickly to be truthful. Both Ghost and Soap looked at their captain, obviously suspicious. Chop smiled mischievously, but said nothing.
After providing Price with the info for one last pallet of supplies—mostly ammunition—the Taskforce began packing up their new grenade launchers and preparing to head back to their plane.
“Before you go, can I steal Lieutenant Riley for a couple minutes.” Chop called, just as the group moved to pick up their items.
The the skull-printed balaclava tilted slightly in a subtle surprised expression. Ghost nodded to the others then walked over the supply officer.
“Yes ma’am?” he said respectfully, standing at ease and gazing down at the short woman.
“Come on with me, Mr. Ghost.” Chop waved her clipboard, ushering him to follow her. Ghost wordlessly fell into step behind her, his curiosity growing as she escorted him to a smaller room at the back of the hanger.
Chop stopped at a table, placed her clipboard down and disappeared into an adjacent office for a moment. Ghost glanced around the room, silently waiting for the officer to reappear.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I worked on a little project for you.” He heard her call from the office. She emerged a moment later with a box held between her hands. “Remember the last time you were here, and I kept pestering you with questions about that mask of yours.”
Ghost blinked down at her, not answering for a few moments.
“Yes?” He said finally, the questioning tone clear in his voice. During their last stopover in Germany the supply officer had begun peppering Ghost with questions about the balaclava, unperturbed by his towering frame, hidden face and gruff personality. While Ghost would have brushed or scared off most who tried to talk to him—especially if their chatter was like a game of twenty questions—he hadn’t felt the inclination to rid himself of Chop. She had just seemed like a harmless and curious grandmother, asking questions in a gentle manner not meant to offend, and never asking any too personal. Ghost had simply answered her questions and supposed he’d fallen victim to her inescapable charm, just like everyone else.
Besides, Ghost knew better than to piss off a supply officer. Chop’s persistent questioning had been well worth it for the special weapons and supplies she’d provided them.
Chop nodded, lifting the lid off the box, “Well I was thinking about what you said; how it can get hot and itchy. And I started wondering what kind of cloth would work better for you, maybe something not quite so stifling.” She uncovered a black square of folded cloth, and gingerly picked it up and offered it to him.
Ghost reached out and took it from her, a rush of intrigue coming over him. Holding it in his fingers, he let the fabric dangle and unfold and he held it up to get a better look at it.
It took him a few moments before he realized it was a head covering. He could see where the fabric was sewn, narrowed down so it would fit snuggly around his head, a strap to tighten it along the back of his neck. The rest of the fabric hung long and loose, leaving him with ample slack he could tuck it into his combat vest, or leave to billow and drape around his neck and shoulders for insulation, sun protection, or camouflage.
Ghost tugged off a glove to rub the cloth between his fingers, testing its texture and thickness. It felt like thin canvas, stiffer but lighter and more breathable than the balaclava he wore currently. Even in the air conditioning of the offices, his balaclava was hot against his skin, itching when it caught on his stubble.
Ghost flipped the cloth over and found the two eye holes cut into the fabric. Dotted around the holes were small round disk shapes, each individually sewn into the cloth.
“What are these?” He asked, thumbing one of disks.
“Oh darlin’,” Chop drawled, looking very pleased with herself. “That’s the best part.”
In the package, she lifted off layer of packing paper and Ghost saw a gleam of white beneath her fingers. He knew what it was even before she had presented it to him, and he felt a rare moment of speechlessness come over him.
“Fibre reinforced plastic composite. It’s strong and light, great for stopping shrapnel but don’t count on it to stop a bullet.” She held out the skull plate, meticulous detailed and looking nearly real. Ghost clutched it delicately, admiring the way the shadows were cast across its shape as he turned it over in his fingers. When he revealed the underside of it, Chop leaned over and tapped the metal dots embedded in the bone-white material. “It’s magnetic. It should snap right into place. The magnets are strong enough that it can stay on even if you take a tumble, but you can pop it off if you really need to.”
Ghost was silent for several seconds, then looked up from the skull plate to stare at the round cheeked woman.
“Where’d you get it?” He asked, a little dumbstruck. Chop looked briefly bashful.
“I made it.” She gave a shrug and lopsided grin.
“Really?” Ghost uttered out, staring down at the skull again.
“Well, I just started thinking about the cloth, then the project evolved from there. I knew I couldn’t give you something that didn’t match the skeleton motif you’ve got going here,” She motioned her hand up and down in his direction. “So I figured I’d just paint the skull on, but that ended up looking like crap. So I did some research and brainstorming and landed on this.” She motioned to the plate.
“And you made this?” Ghost held up the skull plate, hearing the blatant disbelief in his voice.
“Sure did! It was actually a bit easier than I would have thought. Hardest part was trying to figure out if you wanted something more stylized, or more realistic. I thought this the scarier of the two.” She winked at him, a twinkle in her eye. “Just had to come up with a 3D model of what I wanted, but I’m a real whiz on the computer so that was pretty easy.” Ghost listened, knowing she was understating the effort she’d gone through. He alternated staring down at the skull plate in his hands, and up at Chop’s happy face. “I happen to have a good relationship with the company that makes our combat armour, seeing as how we’re their best customer. Sent them the model file, and they sent me back that.” She nodded her head towards the skull plate. “It’s not perfect and we’ll probably have to make adjustments, depending on how it fits, but I think it looks pretty good for a first try.”
“Can I try it?” Ghost asked, his eagerness plain in his voice.
“Of course! I’d be offended if you didn’t. Take the office.” She jerked a thumb behind her at the open door.
Ghost nodded and disappeared into the office, closing the door behind him. With quick movements he had his sunglasses and balaclava off, and had pulled the new fabric over his head. He immediately noticed a difference, the cloth allowing better airflow and keeping the temperature to a reasonable degree. He tugged on the edges of the fabric, making it snug before pushing the excess length over one shoulder.
He held the skull plate in his fingers and admired it one last time, before turning it over and lifting it up to his face. When it was about an inch away from the cloth Ghost felt the plate get tugged from his fingers and heard a satisfying clacking sound as the magnets in the mask and cloth drew together.
Ghost just held still for a moment, feeling the weight of the new fabric against his head, the skull plate against his face. It felt snug but comfortable, the plate not dragging the fabric downwards with its weight. His field of view was narrowed by the mask, but not so much that it would impair him. Carefully, Ghost ran his fingers over the new contours of his face, then shoved his balaclava and glasses into his pocket before exiting the office.
Chop let out an excited and pleased squealing sound, holding her hands together in front of her face.
“Darlin’, you look absolutely marvellous. Better than I could have hoped.” She looked so gleeful, and Ghost let himself smile faintly beneath the mask. “Come here, let me see.”
Chop waved him over and Ghost obeyed, bowing forward so she could reach and tug on the cloth. She gently pinched the edges of the skull plate in her fingers and wiggled it, seeing how it moved against his face.
“How’s it feel? Is it comfortable? We want it snug but not chafing.” She asked putting her hands on both sides of his head so she could move him around and better examine her work. Ghost didn’t complain, happy to let her look him over thoroughly.
“Might be a bit tight ‘ere,” he gestured around the bridge of his nose. Chop moved his head again to look at the spot he’d indicated. Ghost could feel the edges of the mask trying to push against his nose; it was a bit uncomfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.
“Alright, I’ll see if I can fix that for the next time you’re here.” Chop lifted her hands away from his head and Ghost straightened.
She gestured to the box on the table. “There’s another covering in there for desert ops, and a few spare plates, in case this one breaks. Oh!” Chop turned and disappeared into the office, reappearing a moment later with a mirror, no bigger than his hand. “You haven’t even seen what you look like in it. Take a look!” She thrust the mirror at him.
Ghost grasped the mirror and held it up, staring at his reflection. It felt like he was looking into the face of the grim reaper, his eyes shadowed by the mask. He reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers down the front of the skull plate. The mirror dropped to his side and he looked down at Chop.
“You are magnificent.” He said in throaty, pleased rumble. Chop beamed happily.
“Good good good!” She chirped gleefully, closing the box and handing it to him. “Now go, the others are waiting on you. Shoo!” She wave her hands at him, hastily urging him out.
Ghost shoved the box under one arm and used the other to wrap around the older woman’s shoulders and pulled her into brief embrace. He pressed a quick affectionate kiss to the top of her head, the gesture slightly obscured by the cloth covering his face and the toothed edge of his new mask bumping into her hair.
“Thank you, love.” Ghost said, pulling back a little stiffly, surprised at himself for his show of sudden tenderness. “You ever need anything you tell me, yeah? Anything.” He laced the word with dark implications.
Chop just laughed, her rounded cheeks flushing. “I’ll give that offer some thought.” She patted him on the arm, then shooed him away again. “Now go! Don’t let me hold you up.” This time Ghost obeyed, exiting the hanger and heading for the plane.
Soap and Price were stowing their gear in the airplane when Ghost climbed up the ramp. They both turned to glance at him and froze. Soap let out a long slow whistle.
“Someone’s got themselves a new look.” Price said, crossing his arms over chest and admiring Ghost’s appearance.
“Little present from Chop.” There was no hiding the smug tone in Ghost’s voice.
“That’s terrifying,” Soap said, a grin growing across his face. “I fuckin’ love it.”
“As do I. That woman is too good to us.” Ghost didn’t bother to try and hide the warm, fond sound to his voice.
“That she is.” Price agreed with a nod.
Ghost glanced to the pallets, then eyed Price for a moment, “Say, Johnny? Chop said she stowed the captain’s special items in the big pallet, yeah?” He hadn’t even finished before Soap was gone, skidding around the boxes and making a beeline for the largest of the three pallets.
“Bloody hell, Simon.” Price hissed his name like a curse, racing after the sergeant. But he was too late; Soap was already prying the top layer of items off the pallet, tossing bundles of medical gauze and bandages to the floor.
“Jesus, Cap’n.” Soap laughed incredulously. He held aloft one of several boxes stashed at the centre of the pallet. “She could have gotten you anything, and you asked for these?”
It was a box of Thin Mints Girl Scouts cookies.
Ghost’s new skull mask popped up from behind one of the adjacent pallets where he’d been stowing his gear, and he eyed the box in Soap’s hands.
“Toss it ‘ere, Johnny.” Ghost called, and Soap obeyed while Price protested angrily, his ears beet red. Snapping the box out of the air, Ghost quickly slipped it into the box Chop had given him, a treat for later.
“A bunch of bastards, you lot.” Price huffed a minute later, carrying his armful of Thin Mints to the other side of the plane while Soap laughed around a mouthful of stolen cookie.