Welcome to the Misfits

Miscommunication

Chapter 21: Miscommunication

Owen was impassive as he watched AK-47 and SVT-38 shove the tied up Nines imposter into the back of the only operational vehicle they had left at the Outpost. 

The old delivery van.

MP-40 stood next to him, occasionally she would cast worried looks his way when she thought he wasn't looking.

And for good reason, I must look like shit. Owen thought to himself as he readjusted his chest rig for the fifth time.

None of his old combat equipment fit quite right, and it all felt heavier than normal. Whenever he did too much activity he became winded.

Guess I have to ease back into things. He thought grumpily.

Once Not Nines, that's what Owen decided to call her, was secured in the van, M3 and M4 climbed in to guard her.

Owen had given everyone orders to kill Not Nines if it looked like she would break free. Partly because he didn't want to lose any of the other dolls to a crazed ex Soviet spy doll. He remembered the way Nines' studied him whenever he would enter the room to check on her, taking notes of whatever weakness she found so she could easily take him out when the opportunity arose.

What bothered Owen the most was the fact that he wasn't sure he could stop her, even if he wanted to.

He adjusted his chest rig again, then checked his battered A4.

Sometimes he missed his old Mk18 he had when he was in the Rangers, and he definitely missed the CT-21 he had during his brief stint in Delta, but he was starting to grow fond of the old M16 that Quartermaster Hayes kept forcing on him.

Owen fought down the wave of nostalgia as he made sure the old ACOG mounted to his even older rifle was still secure.

One of the many side effects of losing the nanites was that he couldn't use the ELCAN sights that Freya had set up for him.

He also lost his built in night vision.

It sucked being normal.

"Are you alright?" MP-40 asked, trying to keep the concern out of her voice.

Owen turned to give her a reassuring grin and by the look on his adjutant's face, it was anything but, so he dropped it.

"I'm alright." He said with indifference he didn’t feel.

A fresh stream of Russian swears streamed from the back of the van and MP-40 watched Owen’s face go blank as his body tensed. He turned to the van and she briefly caught a glimpse of worry cross his eyes.

“We’ll be moving out soon.” He half muttered, but MP-40 didn’t think he was talking to her.

"What would you like me to do?" She asked him.

Owen gave her a brief glance before turning back to the van, “I’m taking Makarov’s team with me for security, so you’ll be in charge of Nines’ team until she gets back.” He stumbled a bit at the mention of Nines. “G3’s team can be cut to Gentiane as QRF* if she needs it.”

MP-40 nodded, “Everything will be taken care of, Kommandant.” She then reached out and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, “And don’t worry, she will be back in charge of her team in no time, I promise.”

MP-40 saw Owen’s barriers slip for a moment as she saw the exhaustion and worry in his eyes as he turned to face her.

He gave her another smile, this time it looked haggard, but genuine.

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded and returned the smile and gave him a gentle shove towards the van, “Of course, now go get her back.”