Wolf

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I couldn't believe it when they let a bloody kid join the SAS. I thought it was a joke. The boy couldn't have been any older than twenty. My guess would be eighteen. I mean they wouldn't let anyone in any younger than that, that wouldn't be legal. Still I was not happy he was there. He was quiet, kept to himself mostly, did what he's told without complaint, and much to my distaste, he was a natural at everything he did. His fitness level was almost as high as his bloody sarcasm, but not quite. My god, I don't think I have ever heard the kid say anything without at least a hint of sarcasm. Cheeky prick. I wasn't hospitable towards the boy. Heck I even tried to get him binned. I pushed him onto a tripwire in the killing house during hostage release training. He activated it, setting the stun grenade off. I must say I was very pleased, unlike the sergeant. It wasn't until after I pushed the kid that I realised he might tell the sergeant what I had done, so I started coming up with excuses while we waited patiently for him to emerge from the building. I honestly thought I was going to get binned that day, but the kid lied, said he wasn't watching where he was going. The sergeant went ballistic, and the boy just stood there and took it. After me being such an ass to him, he still lied. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. I still didn't respect him though. I still thought he shouldn't be there, a part of our unit. It wasn't until we had to jump out of a plane that I really realised how much of a dick I had been. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a weakness, a fear, and that is heights. When the day came that we had to throw our bodies out of a plane and freefall through the sky, relying solely on a piece of fabric to save us from becoming a bloody pancake, I froze. I couldn't do it. I don't know how long I stood there, just staring out the door trying to summon up the courage to jump, but it must have been a while. I couldn't even think. I just stood there, feeling the wind whipping my face, faintly hearing yelling in the background, no doubt aimed at me. I knew it could get me binned, but yet I still couldn't do it. The boy must have realised this, because suddenly I felt something slam into my back, and then that I was no longer in the plane, I was falling. For a moment I panicked, but I quickly gained my composure and landed without a hitch. I respect him now. The boy. After everything I had done to him, just to make his life hell, he still helped me. After that day I didn't expect to see him again. I was sent on a mission up in the French alps, something to do with some kids being held hostage by some crazy scientist. That day I knew the kid was not normal. In fact, that day I knew the kid was insane. The boy snowboarded down the side of a mountain on an ironing board with barely a scrape to prove it. I couldn't stop thinking about him after that. Who was he? Where did he learn to do everything he does? How bloody old is he? It's been a year since then. I still know nothing about the kid unconscious in my arms, other than his code name is Cub, and he sure knows how to get himself in trouble.  

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