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Summary
“Fuck!” Ghost swore and dropped the carcass, throwing it onto the sandy ground, the feeling of failure immediately crushing him like a weight.
Price had cursed in his ear— furious at the development. And Soap, who had come jogging up to him, looked disappointed. Actually, downright, disappointed. “You fucking kidding me, Simon?! You had him! What the hell were you doing?!”
Ghost flinched at the words.
He had nothing to say because he didn’t know. He just made a mistake.
“Don’t call me that,” Ghost is all he could growl at Soap, who just rolled his eyes at him.
That was last week.
Now, both were still teaming up against him. Or rather, making him fucking miserable every chance they get.
or-
Ghost can't stop fucking up. Soap and Price show him exactly what they think of his failures.