A/N: As you can tell from the title, this was written for the New Year. Unfortunately, I couldn't be as punctual as I would've liked to, but it's still close to the 1st xD
There's enough swearing in here to be rated M. Just a heads-up.
Soap, Ghost and Roach have already finished two bottles of wine, each, by the time the clock struck eleven-twenty at night.
"You know…you two are just so, so lucky," Roach slurred, tilting his head back to take a swig. When nothing poured into his mouth, he grumbled and set the empty bottle back on the empty bar countertop with a thud.
"Oh? Why…why is that, mate?" Soap asked, squinting as he tried to focus on Roach. His vision was blurry and it looked as though there were three or four of him seated there.
"I don't see what's…sooo good about being me," Ghost, who sat on Roach's left, disagreed. He groaned and leaned forward, pressing his face on the counter.
"Let me tell you why," Roach scowled at the lieutenant, displeased that he didn't share the same opinion. "If you're me, then you go on ops, no matter what kind or with who, I have to follow whatever you two say and do. And, and, like…eighty percent of the time, your arses are in my face."
Ghost chuckled, whereas Soap looked at him as though he had two heads.
"I follow you guys on the bloody battlefield," Roach jabbed an accusing finger at the captain. "Most of the time, I tail behind you. Like, remember that mission to get the ACS? Yeah, Cap…"
Soap arched a brow, incredulous. "So, you couldn't just avert your eyes?"
"I was climbing ice," Roach retorted. "What, you want me to look down? Besides, it was you who told me to wait for your go. I had a good, good view of your behind."
Ghost chuckled again. "My arse is a fine piece of work, Roach, that's why you don't complain when you go on missions where I'm in charge…"
"Shut up, Riley…" Soap muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Roach suggested, getting down from his stool. The drunkness temporarily cuased him to lose his balance, and he stumbled, running into another drunk who was passing by.
The stranger Roach bumped into tripped and landed on his face. Ghost and Soap watched with amusement as the other drunk cursed and struggled to stand.
"I don't know who the fuck you are," he mumbled, finally getting to his feet. "But I'm kicking your ass!"
Roach, at first, didn't respond. His head was spinning as his body tried to send the message to his brain that he shifted from sitting to standing. The stranger threw a punch at Roach, hitting him right at his jaw. The blow was strong enough to send Roach staggering a few steps back.
It took about five seconds for Roach to actually realize he was punched. Smirking, he shook his head slowly and taunted the stranger. "Well, is that all you've got, you bloody tourist yank?"
"I'm a soldier, jackass. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"Oh, really? I'm a soldier, too!" Roach spat, getting into a fighting stance.
"Hey, hey," Ghost suddenly reached a hand out and waved it toward them, catching both Roach's and the stranger's attention. "You know, Bug, there ain't much of a difference between you two. You're both blond, you're both the same height, you're both soldiers…only thing is that he's a yank, and you're just a numpty drunk into oblivion."
Then, he pointed a finger at the stranger and squinted. "You look kind of a familiar, you know…"
"Whatever, this bastard is going to get his arse kicked!" Roach declared, delivering a sharp, fast jab. He slugged his American opponent right in his face; the surprise attack causing him to fall on his back.
"That'll teach you" Roach points a shaky finger at his challenger's stunned body on the floor, "not to mess with Roach Sanderson!"
"Sanderson? I've heard that somewhere…" his opponent muttered, before putting a hand to his nose and groaning. "Fucking Brit…"
A smirk played across Roach's face, one which was victorious and indicated he was drunk, but more on the latter. Especially when he tried to spit on the stranger, he somehow forgot how to control his mouth and ended up choking on his saliva.
As Roach slipped into a coughing fit, Ghost glanced down at his wristwatch. Not only did he have a hard time reading the time, he also struggled to get words out of his mouth. "It's eleven-forty, mate. You…s-sober enough to drive us into…town?"
Soap was obviously wasted, made evident by his flushed face, cloudy blue eyes and how he hardly seemed to have control over his hands. "Sure. Let's gooo…" The captain nearly fell from his stool.
Ghost staggered over to a recovering Roach and grabbed him by the back of his collar. He led the way, dragging the sergeant (who was the drunk-est of them all) and hoping Soap would be able to follow them out to the car.
"Uurggh…who was that guy?" Roach asked, his words hardly coherent. He was talking about his American opponent from earlier.
Ghost didn't answer, a dull dizziness was pounding at the back of his skull and he didn't want to think. Soap murmuring and slurring assured him the captain was keeping up.
Then, some voices from behind them.
"Frost, why the fuck is your nose bleeding?!"
"Shut up, Grinch! I got my ass kicked…by someone I think I know…shit, that bastard can really punch..."
"Damn, Sandman's going to have my balls for this. What should I tell him?"
"That I will never agree to going overseas with you again…"
Ghost didn't know how long it took for them to finally reach their car, but it must've been a long time, especially with the number of times they tried to unlock other vehicles which didn't belong to them.
Finally, he got in the passnger seat as Soap slipped behind the wheel and Roach occupied the space behind them.
"Why isn't the key going in?" Soap whined, actually whined, as he scowled at the keys. He didn't realize he was trying to insert the shotgun keychain into the ignition.
"Fuck, I don't know," Roach muttered. He massaged his temples. "What time is it?"
"It's…" Ghost glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes to midnight."
Soap's eyes widened. "What?! The town's more than ten bloody minutes away! Bloody shite…" He aggresively shifted the gear and slammed on the pedal. The car suddenly jerked back, and the sudden force pushed Roach and Ghost forward.
Roach nearly flew forward into the windshield, whereas Ghost's face slammed into the dashboard.
"Ah, bloody fuck!" Ghost cursed, hands flying to his face. "Watch your fucking driving, MacTavish!"
The car reversed and hit a pole. Soap shifted the gear again, and this time the wheels screeched, before they were on the road, travelling at an alarmingly high speed.
The vehicle swiveled violently at each turn. As if that wasn't dizziying enough, the loud horns of each car they passed by just added to the headaches.
"Cap…slow down…" Roach groaned, sounding nauseous. "I think I'm gonna—"
He suddenly cupped his mouth with his hand hastily rolled down the left window. Roach stuck his head out, and Ghost and Soap grimaced and flinched as the sergeant vomited onto the street.
"Oh my god, MacTavish, slow the bloody car down!" Ghost warned. "Roach is emptying his dinner out the window and you're driving like we're in a fucking race!"
Soap glowered at the lieutenant, and was about to say something, but then a lorry's horn blazed in their ears and headlights glared straight at them. The captain cursed and took an abrupt left.
As they narrowly avoided collision (and death), Roach's voice was heard over the loud horn.
"S-Sorry!" he yelled, before groaning and leaning back against his seat.
Ghost turned to look at Roach, who still looked a bit queasy.
"Did you hit a pedestrian?" He wasn't sure whether to laugh or be disgusted.
"Aye, just thank Captain for that…"
They eventually reached the field where the citizens gathered every year to watch the fireworks and celebrate. There must have been about a hundred people gathered there, sitting in clumps and littered across the field as far as one can see.
It was only after all three exited did they realize the car was slowly moving backwards on the gentle slope.
They watched, bewildered and helpless, as the car crashed into another vehicle and the alarm went off.
A few surprised civilians turned around and stared as the soldiers exchanged glances.
Soap had a sheepish look on his face. "Oops, must've forgot the handbrake…"
"I had nothing to do with that," Ghost said quickly at Soap, raising his arms.
Roach rolled his eyes and sighed. "Time?"
Ghost glanced down at his watch. He stared at it for a while, then looked up at the sky. A perplexed look was on his face. "Says here it's a minute past midnight. Where are the fireworks?"
"Must be some technical errors," Soap said, looking around. "Everybody looks pretty confused…"
"The fireworks site is just around the corner," Roach told them. "Wanna ask what's the problem?"
"Sure, why the hell not." Ghost shrugged, and he and Soap followed Roach as he walked along the greenery.
Eventually, they reached a part of the field where civilians were restricted, as it was the site of the fireworks.
"Eh? Nobody's here," Soap remarked, noting how there was nobody in the area fenced by red-and-white-striped tape.
"Bloody wankers slacked off," Ghost surmised, pointing ahead of them.
The fireworks for the show were already up and reading, each rocket pointing upwards, put neatly in one line and a few rows. They were arranged in such a way that there was only one piece of string to ignite to have all the fireworks going up in their arranged sequence.
Near these fireworks were two guards. One was already asleep, the other was struggling to keep his eyes open. They were both seated, facing away from the fireworks and toward east.
"No operators?" Roach asked, bewildered.
"Let's go talk to 'em…" Soap muttered, bending and going in under the tape.
When Ghost followed, Roach stared at them incredulously. "B-But…it's restricted area."
"Well, I ain't up for shouting, Bug," Ghost shrugged. "Besides, it's already eight minutes past New Year, might as well wake them up."
Hesitantly, the sergeant tailed after them, entering the restricted area to approach the two guards, who were the only ones in authority present. As Ghost approached them, Soap and Roach wandered a bit, walked up to look at the fireworks.
"Oi, you!" Ghost snapped, surprising both guards.
"W-What…" One of them stared at Ghost, confused at first. Then, he saw Roach and Soap close to the fireworks. "Hey! Stay away from there!"
"It's already ten minutes past New Year, you idiots," Ghost tapped his watch, frowning irritably.
The guards glanced at each other, confused. As the lieutenant sighed and repeated his statement, Soap took out a cigar and lighter as Roach childishly admired the fireworks and imagined the show.
One of the guards looked horror-stricken. "Ey! Get away from the fireworks! No fire sources, you wank!"
Soap turned to move away from the fireworks, but his clumsy and weak handling of the cigar caused it to fall out of his grasp.
And what more convenient place to land on other than the fireworks' rope.
As a hiss and familiar red travelled up the rough string, Soap cursed and grabbed Roach's arm. "Oh, bloody fucking hell! Everybody close your eyes and GET DOWN!"
Just as he screamed 'down', a rocket shot up in the sky and exploded into pretty lights, followed by countless other fireworks. Soap and Roach fell to the ground, and though irritated his face was in the grass, Roach was stunned by the thunderous booms, ear-bursting pops and glaring flashes that brightened the night.
Ghost immediately went prone, whereas the other gaurds screames obscenities and fell to the floor.
"You bloody shite!" One of the guards shouted at him, flinching as a thunderous boom shook the ground. "New Year isn't due until another five fucking minutes!"
Ghost, though puzzled at first, grimaced when realization finally washed over him.
"Fuck, forgot I set my watch fifteen minutes faster…"
Roach woke up with his cheek against something cold.
"What the hell?" he mumbled, sitting up. He was on a metal bed without a mattress, pillow or blanket.
Ghost and Soap were lying on the floor, still asleep. Roach looked around, part terrified and completely perplexed. They were in a small, square chamber with concrete gray walls and floors.
Then there were the metal bars.
"Oh, looks like you're awake, Roach," A familiarly accented voice spoke, sounding tired, amused and irritated at the same time.
This vague, tall figure was standing outside the cell. Roach tried hard to focus on the person.
"A-Archer…?"
"Hmmm." His way of saying 'yes'.
"Shit…where are we?"
"You're in a jail cell in the police station, mate."
Roach remained silent. For a few seconds, nothing was said. That was, until, Ghost opened his eyes and looked around.
He didn't sit up from his uncomfortable-looking spot on the cold floor, but he looked as though he knew what he was into. Ghost groaned and shook his head, wiping his face several times.
Almost as if on cue, Soap woke up next. He sat up and subconsciously looked around, the sleepiness faltering with every detail sinking in. "I know we set off the fireworks, but…why are we in the lock-up?"
"There's a long list, sir," Archer sighed. "Driving under the influence of alcohol, vandalism, destruction of public property, assault…"
"Assault?!" Roach gaped at him.
Archer shrugged. "The guard said so."
There was a long silence this time.
Finally, Ghost grimaced. "What a way to kick off the New Year…"
A/N: Meh, I know it was rushed, but I'm pretty okay with this one-shot. Don't be afraid to leave a review! I'd love to hear from you guys.
Happy New Year!