Stalked

Gary Sanderson lies in the underbrush, almost invisible in the shade. He watches his target dart from cover to cover through the scope of his gun. As his target moves down the field, Roach follows, creeping through the bushes. The man crouches behind another low wall, but this time he's finally visible to Roach. The sergeant peers through his scope again, taking aim, and fires.

"FUCK!" Meat howls. The paintball catches him off guard and knocks him over. He looks around wildly, trying to figure out just where in the hell that came from. Roach fires again, shooting Meat in the leg. Meat pulls himself over the barrier, shielding himself from Roach's onslaught of paint. Roach runs out of the woods and down to the other side of Meat's cover. He leans over the top to see Meat lying on his back.

"Gotcha, asshat," Roach snickers, looking down at his fallen friend. Meat groans.

"Roach, you shot me in the junk." He moves his hands to show Roach that there was indeed a blob of bright yellow paint there. Roach falls back over the wall, doubling over in laughter.

"Another man down for Green Team," Roach says once the laughing dies down, "be sure to ice up, bud." Meat just gives Roach the finger.

Morning

Roach stumbles into the mess hall shortly before 6 AM, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He's never been an early riser, even with years in the military. He shuffles over to the counter and fills a tray full of food, then makes his way over to the table filled with other members of the Task Force. Roach stifles a yawn as he sits. He digs into his breakfast, missing whatever Rook just said to him. Rook jabs him in the ribs.

"Whaya wan" Roach says through a mouthful of cereal. Rook shoots him a look when some of the cereal drops from Roach's mouth into his lap.

"I said since we have tomorrow off, me and some of the boys are gonna go into town tonight and get blasted. You wanna come?"

"Only if Worm doesn't try to fight everyone we meet. We really can't take him anywhere, can we?" Roach yawns after that, and Worm shoots a Cheerio into his mouth. Roach gags. His coughing fits get catches the attention of others at the table.

"None of you bloody children should be allowed anywhere." Ghost grunts.

Passport

"The bloody hell you lot howling at?" Ghost rounds the corner to the rec room, only to find Meat on the floor and a group of soldiers near tears. Roach on the other hand was sitting in a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Worm stops laughing long enough to give Ghost an explanation.

"Meat's got Roachie's passport right here!" Worm snorts "Roach, how old were you when they took this picture?"

"Twenty."

"Roach, you look like an eleven-year-old! Did you give yourself that haircut?" Meat asks. He opens the passport and starts laughing again. Roach just stares at Ghost with a blank expression.

"It couldn't possibly be that bad," Ghost says. Meat tosses the passport to Ghost, but before he can open it, Royce comes into the room with a shout.

"If you though Roach's passport photo was bad, wait until you all see Meat's license picture!" he says, waving the little piece of plastic at everyone. Meat lunges at Royce but Ghost is faster, snatching the license out of Royce's hand.

"Meat, you look like a right twat. You look like you were just on a three-day bender, mate." Ghost says, staring at the picture. The room erupts into laughter again.

Meat grumbles. "You didn't have to roast me like this Lieutenant."

Note: I was originally going to have a longer fic for Cod-A-Thon, but college happened, and it was not ready to see the light of day at this point. I had fun participating and doing this anyway though!