Chapter Text
Jasper Bell was not a patient man.
He much preferred the guns-blazing, loud, reckless strategy. But alas, this one was a waiting game—such were the perks (not) of being shipped off onto an elite task force. It was nothing like the feel of raw power, the storming of buildings without a second thought, the strength in the sheer number of brutes like him acting like a wall of fearless, idiodic, gun-wielding flesh. After all, everyone was mortal. Pathetic, weak, fragile flesh. Jasper hated being fragile.
Being fragile was the only thing Jasper hated more than sitting still. Actually, that was a lie. He hated most things, but that was something he would never admit. Sniping, however, was truly the bane of his existence—but at least he had company. He was still trying to convince himself that company was a good thing. Ever since being shipped off to this new, special team last week, he’d been treated differently. Like he wasn’t just another number- another statistic, a man among hundreds of others. No. Here, he stood out. Here, he was a part of something bigger, greater. The best of the best—a multinational, anti-terrorism, special ops unit, the 141. Jasper was still trying to wrap his head around it. Going from his platoon in South Australia to here, in the UK, was like whiplash. Jasper missed the damn sun, for one. It had been raining the whole week from when he’d stepped onto the tarmac of his new base, and it was miserable.
Even now, it was still cloudy, and the grass was unbearably soggy, but the rain had cleared, if only for a moment. Lying belly down on the ground, watching through the scope of his DMR, Jasper sighed. His fingers itched around the trigger, begging for a firefight, a target, anything, just for something to do. He turned his head to eye his new captain, Price. Jasper studied the man’s beard, his stupid bucket hat and his mutton chops, and couldn’t quite determine if the man looked intimidating or like a teddy. He supposed he’d have to save his judgement for when he knew his captain better.
“Focus, sergeant,” Price grunted, not taking his eyes off the view through his own scope. Jasper rolled his eyes. Do this, do that. It was always the same. Nothing was happening anyway. What was there to focus on? This was just ridiculous. They were meant to be providing cover for Jasper’s new coworker— went by Gaz. Why couldn’t he go too? He huffed. Price swiveled to glare at the sergeant, clearly irritated by the man’s poor ability at hiding his annoyance. Frankly, Jasper thought it was dumb to let one soldier go in alone. It was just asking for trouble.
Finally, it was almost as if his prayers had been answered—the loud crack of firearms shattering the prior silence. Jasper jolted, suddenly filled with the excitement and adrenaline that came with being plunged into a firefight. He immediately turned to face Price again, meeting his captain’s gaze.
“We stepping in? Gaz won’t last a minute down there in that shitshow,” Jasper remarked, trying and failing to mask his eagerness towards the danger his new teammate was in. Price sighed. Jasper was practically trembling with the anticipation and notion of actually shooting something.
“Yes- yes, we’ll have to go down. He’s outnumbered down there.”
And just like lightning, Jasper was packing up his DMR and slinging it over his shoulder, straightening his back and feeling it pop from being prone for so long. He switched his gun for his M4A1, rolling his shoulders and watching Price expectantly. At last, a chance to do something. If the 141 had requested Jasper to be shipped over to them, surely that meant the higher ups knew he was capable of more than lying down and watching someone else do everything?
Judging by the look on Price’s face, he was beginning to grasp how trigger happy Jasper was. Something to work on, he supposed. “Alright, Ja-” Price began, stopping himself at the immediate glare Jasper sent him.
“Tango,” he corrected himself, and Jasper nodded. “You lead, I’ll follow. Let’s see what kind of stuff you’re made of,” Price rumbled, dipping his head at the sergeant.
It wasn’t lost on Price how Jasper had stood a little taller when he was referred to as his callsign. Clearly something was buried there—something touchy that his identity and he as a person was involved in. It was likely all in his file that Price had all but skimmed over, only really focusing on records, performance, deployments, accomplishments and code of conduct violations. The part about Jasper’s family history had been mostly forgotten; familiar stories of neglect and the like, not that he’d read much of it.
— — — —
Jasper held his gun like it was an extension of his very being, firing just a few bullets into anything that so much as moved inside the compound. He had a damn good aim, Price had to give him that. The captain trailed closely behind Jasper, taking out any cheeky fuckers hiding behind doors that the sergeant missed. They’d lost contact with Gaz just a few moments ago, and Price hid it well, but he was stressed. He didn’t want to lose that kid. He couldn’t. Jasper didn’t seem to be concerned at all. After all, he’d only just met them all, and unfortunately, weren’t all too attached to them either. Not that that meant he didn’t care about them and wouldn’t try to save them should the need arise—just that if something were to happen, Jasper wouldn’t let himself be sad for too long.
Frankly, it was just more men. Men came in, men left, men were killed. Nothing new. Of course, that was just how it was.
“Still no word from Gaz?” Jasper called back, not taking his eyes off the hallway. Smart boy. Shifting your attention from the danger in front of you was like signing your own death certificate. Jasper was reckless, yes, but he wasn't dumb.
Price hesitated, walking in front of Jasper and holding up his fist so that the latter stopped.
"Listen—you hear that?"
Jasper paused, straightening up. There was faint chatter audible from one of the rooms nearby, hushed, but gruff. Ah. So the bastards were hiding. But then there was a woman's voice, tearful and pleading—that wasn't any soldier.
"Shit. Hostage situation?"
Price nodded once. So much for easy in and out. And the other bloody sergeant was still M.I.A. What a shit fight.
— — — —
Price was the one to bash in the door, Jasper standing behind him with his gun held high, just in case whoever was inside the room opened fire. The moment the door swung open, Jasper fired several rounds into each armed soldier in a matter of seconds—before he even stepped into the room—with deadly accuracy.
There were 4 hostages in the room, bound and appearing rightfully terrified. Gaz was in the corner, seemingly unconscious or potentially dead. Price rushed towards Gaz and Jasper lowered his weapon to assess everything, deciding that everyone seemed okay. He nodded to himself, holding his hands up to attempt to soothe the hostages.
“Alright everyone—nice and easy, you’re alright now,” he kneeled beside one of the women, cutting her ties. Jasper tried to converse with the other three hostages while freeing them to try putting them at ease. Difficult, but definitely necessary to lessen the trauma.
“What’s your name, miss?” Jasper asked the brunette woman, putting his hand on her shoulder to check her over. No injuries. None visible, at least.
“Oh—uh, Elodie,” she replied, somewhat shakily, which was understandable, considering the circumstances. Jasper nodded and turned his attention to the blonde woman, black haired woman and the red-head man beside her.
“What about you pair? What’s your names’?” Jasper grunted, and he thought he was masking his awkwardness pretty well. He shifted his weight and glanced between Price, who was helping hold up a very woozy looking Gaz, and the two hostages he hadn’t checked over yet. The blonde spoke up first, significantly more nervous than the first lady.
“..Sylvie.” She murmured, seeming… scared of him, maybe. Well, Jasper wasn’t exactly the friendliest face. Not with the chronic RBF he had.
Shuffling beside her, the man and the third woman answered as well. Jasper learned that the man's name was Arlo, and the black haired lady was called Jess. He nodded one more time and looked to Price, stepping back to let him lead the way out. Jasper would take the rear to watch everyone's 6 and ensure nobody was left behind. He thought that this was going rather smoothly, apart from the fact that the only reason they'd come here was going to be neglected. If only Jasper had been allowed to go with Kyle—then this whole mess could have been avoided. He wondered how often the 141 pulled shit like this. It seemed entirely irresponsible and dangerous. And clearly, it was. The entire purpose of the mission was now set aside, Gaz was out for the count, and they now had 4 hostages on their hands that hadn't even been mentioned as a possibility before this. Where was the teamwork? Maybe this mission wasn't the best for a first impression. Jasper tried to hold off his judgement as long as possible.
— — — —
Thankfully, the evac was flawless, and everyone got out safely. Loading into the chopper with the ex-hostages, Jasper slumped onto the nearest bench half-heartedly, holding his gun to his chest like an infant. God, he needed a good nap after whatever that was. Once they got back to base, the hostages wouldn't be his problem anymore, they'd be Price's. Jasper didn't think he would be able to handle having to figure out how to get everyone home safely. It would be madness, and he was glad to not be a captain.
Once the chopper landed, Jasper was more than eager to escape back to his room. He'd been on the field since the second day he'd arrived, so the dorm was hardly home yet, but hey, it was still nice to be out of the weather. The miserable, miserable weather.
“You did good out there, kiddo.”
Jasper's head shot up and spun around, meeting Price's approving gaze. His eyes widened, and he was tempted to ask Price to say it again. But instead he just steeled himself and dropped his eyes to the ground.
“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered, waiting for Price to step off the chopper with Gaz and the hostages before following. Jasper was silent for the entire walk across the tarmac, replaying the interaction in his head and going through every other way he could have responded. God, talking was hard. He probably sounded like an asshole. Maybe he was. Whatever.
— — — —
After taking his gear off in the armoury, Jasper finally returned to his room. It was… something, at least. Nothing to write home about. The one day he’d been allocated to settle in hardly allowed him to make the place home. A picture frame here, some stupid knick-knack there. Anything to fill the space and make it feel a little more normal.
“Bloody hell, Finn,” Jasper sighed and changed out of his skivvy and cargo pants, before flopping onto his bed. His stuffed shark—Finneas—had been with him through everything. Everything. Sure, it was probably a bit pathetic at the age of 27 to have a stuffed shark that he’d named, but nobody knew, and it was going to stay that way. Nobody needed to know anyway. They’d probably use it against him or something. Or he’d get another stupid nickname. Jasper had already been living as Tango for so long that it felt weird and wrong should someone say his actual name.
He was scheduled for another deployment the very next morning, and Jasper figured he should at least try to sleep. Hopefully if he went to bed early, he would spend less time tossing and turning and more time actually sleeping.
Well, easier said than done.