The Unwanted Soldier

Chapter 2

Unpacking.

It's surreal to think about it. But at this moment, I was exactly doing that. My backpack was lying on the bed.

Not that I had much stuff to unpack. A few clothes that were not my uniform, a picture of Hailey and me and my hygienic stuff. That was it.

I had a room for myself. It wasn't big but had enough space for a bed, a desk and a bathroom behind the second door. No watchdog was here to observe me 24/7. I could walk freely in and around the facility, and Price would send someone to take me to the training ground in a few hours.

It was surreal, to say the least. As I was finished, I shoved the empty bag under the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. My foot was tapping nervously on the ground, and I bit the inside of my cheek. "This must be a dream. "I mumbled under my breath before I sighed and stood up again. It is time to make myself ready for the training. Captain Price wanted to see how good I was, and I would gladly show him.

I knew Shepard wasn't pleased about Price's choice to transfer me to his Unit. And he wasn't happy with me being here. I didn't care. I had a chance to prove myself, to find some peace. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Huh, how much time had passed? I wasn't ready at all to go training. "Shit!" I quietly hissed.

I opened the door nevertheless. Bright blue eyes looked at me with mischief. The soldier had a Mohawk on his head and wore his gear without the West but a Sweatshirt instead. He was tall, around 6 foot 2 if I guessed right. I wasn't short with my 5 foot 8, but he was pretty tall. I would have problems if- no. Not these thoughts again. I cleared my throat. "You are Breakpoint, right? The 'unwanted' soldier'?"

He had a Scottish accent and seemed to be playful. But I would not let myself be fooled. "If you want to call it that way, then yes," I answered. "You're British?" He asked as he leaned with his shoulder against the doorframe. I took a step back, sceptical of him. "Captain Price said I had a few hours to unpack before someone would take me to the training ground," I said instead of answering the question of the man in front of me. "That's right. But-"

When the soldier looked over my shoulder in my room in the next second, I could curse myself out. He could see that I didn't have much to unpack or that I was already done with unpacking. Either way, I was annoyed with myself. "Your friend in the picture. She's pretty." It was the way he said it. It wasn't a nice comment. It was his undertone that made my blood boil. Because it was the same undertone another man had used, and now this man was dead, buried under the ground.

My heart skipped a beat. My eyebrows narrowed together. My fists clenched, and my eyes darted at him as I tensed up. "Out. Now. Before I lose my control." I said with a calm voice. Whether the soldier wanted it or not, his eyes briefly lost the mischief in it. He heard of the murder I had committed. He knew that I wasn't to be played around with. And even if he had killed bad guys before, he was unsure because I killed one of our own. I crossed the line.

"Beautiful, even if you're a new member, I expect respect from you." Besides his harsh voice, his grin returned when he used that nickname on me. I sighed deeply. "I mean it, soldier. I-" He interrupted me. "Call me Soap, sugar." He winked. If looks could kill, *Soap* would be dead by now. I hated these nicknames nearly as much as I hated being interrupted while talking. I experienced first-hand what happened after being called this nonsense. Guys like him know no boundaries and have zero respect. It's not a good combination.

"If you say so. I get ready for the training." I said as I closed the door right in front of his face and locked it. I turned around, facing my room and trying to collect my emotions. What an arrogant prick.