Chapter Text
Laying on the hard metal bunks was never comfortable, but at this point it was better than nothing. Soap was staring at the filthy ceiling fan, wondering why no one ever cleans it. Wondering what they could have done better last mission. Wondering if the few casualties could have been prevented.
As the fan flashed over the light, a new thought came to his mind. Every few seconds he jumped from topic to topic, falling deeper and deeper into the void of his self consciousness. Until suddenly, a voice yells out his name.
"Soap! Come on, we've been callin' you for ages." The familiar British accent snapping at him, an annoyed tone not so harshly covered. "Price wants to talk." Gaz says, slightly judging Soap's odd demeanor. It was unusual for him to be so down, even after such a tragic fail of a mission. "Aye- sorry, been a lil' lost." Soap groans apologetically as he jumps down from the hard bed. "You good?" Gaz asks, his expression changing as he fully brings in Soap's strange tone. He just nods ever so reassuringly, brushing Gaz's concern away as he makes his way to Prices' office.
"Took ya long enough." An exasperated voice groans as Soap enters the tense room. Price was holding the bridge of his nose with his hand, letting out a tainted sigh. "Sorry." Soap says, clearly just filling the silence as he makes his way across from his captain, next to Ghost. "Look, I'm not gonna sugarcoat shit," Price lets out as most of the men are finally in the room with him. "That was a fucking humiliation." Price says, slight hostility underlying in his voice. "We should've seen the ambush coming, the signs were all there. Yet we still ignored them." He said shaking his head in disappointment.
In an attempt to calm himself, he let out a deep breath. "But, there's nothing we can do 'bout it now." His harsh British accent showing more clearly in the attempt to suppress his rage. "So, what we can do," he paused, grabbing some files from a scattered pile across his messy desk. "Is retaliate."
Presenting profiles of some of the identified attackers, he brought up the major camp holding illegal weapons and likely more goodies that were stolen from the task force in a former stealth raid on a mission the team were on. "Turns out this is not the first time these shitty attempts of bandits stole from military," Price said frustrated, exposing the other reports of raids. "There have been many attempts to strike back, all of which were denied, but with the help of our good buddy Laswell..." he sighed with relief. "We can."
"Why were they denied?" Gaz interjected, confused. "Well, there were a couple cases that were approved.." Price trailed, finding the phrasing of his next statement. "But they were killed?" Ghost's thick voice said, more of a statement rather than a question. Everyone's attention shifted towards the large man, not expecting his contribution. Unfortunately, Price nodded. "Christ.." Soap muttered, doubting the idea of their next task. His eyes drawn to the floor, he never noticed the disgusting aspects of it. The crusty concrete, the stains from God knows what. Swiftly tripping back into the dreaded pool of his own mind.
A few moments of fading conversation, he feels a vibration in his back pocket. He snaps out of his thoughts and takes a breath. Grabbing his phone as he tries to pin point where the conversation had shifted to. Guessing Price was reassuring the task force that they wouldn't end up the same as the other attempts of raiding the camp. He took a look at the notification, dazedly returning to the present moment. Eyes wide, his hand covers his mouth in silent terror. His body tense as he stares at the message, completely forgetting his location and disregarding the meeting. He just stares at the message, unsure whether he should text back or call or even just respond at all in his current emotional state.
He feels nudging into his side, causing him to flinch a little too hard for Gaz's comfort. "What's wrong?" Gaz whispers, hiding under Prices' loud, authoritative voice. "I..e.. It's.." he stammers, struggling to form a sentence let alone even look at Gaz. "My sister." He gets out, his throat choking him as the words get thrown out in a stage whisper. "Got something to input, MacTavish?" Price states, not even trying to hide his annoyance of being interrupted. Sounding like a teacher scolding their students. That stern attitude quickly melts away as he takes in Soap's very clear distress. His shaky breathing, his wide eyes, even his struggling grip. "Aight, we'll continue the brief later, everyone take a breath." Price let's out strictly as he dismisses everyone and their protests to the new mission, shooing them out. He brings his attention to the panicked soldier as the serious room clears. "What's happened?" Price asks Soap, his voice clear as he takes hold of Soap's left shoulder, gripping it comfortingly. Soap sighed, closing his eyes as he stables his body. Presenting the message to his worried captain.