The idea about what would've happened if Nikolai HADN'T picked up Soap and Price after Shepherd was killed has been playing around in my head forever. I just had to write this to finally clear it out.
Sorry for any OOC, this is my first time writing for Call Of Duty.
Donakiko
"Come on Soap… you need to drink something"
The younger man groaned, turning his head away from the tilted mug. This caused a sigh from the older man as he pulled the mug away to a slight distance. "You idiot… you're already dehydrated"
"You take it" A breathy whisper pushed through the Captain's lips, eyelids forced apart to reveal murky, bloodshot blue eyes which looked up at the older Captain.
Price shook his head, keeping a hand on the side of Soap's neck as the other's head lay on his lap. "I don't need it-"
"Bullshit" Soap scoffed, squinting up at Price. "Yah've been skipping on water for two…three days" He paused for a moment, catching his breath. "You need it a hell'uva lot more than me…"
Price shook his head at Soap's stubbornness. He looked down at him, examining him like had become the daily routine. Blue eyes, red-tinted and squinted up back at him like he was fighting to keep them open, facial tone ashen, pale and shining with droplets of sweat from the fever Price was positive he had. A rapid pulse was beating beneath Price's fingers and MacTavish's chest shook from inhaling, shuddering occasionally when a cough was forced out from him, even his signature Mohawk had grown out more.
Price forced himself to look away from his subordinate. The man who'd pulled him out of the hell hole of the Gulag…
…the man who'd saved his life.
Not that he'd ever tell him that. The Scot had a big enough head on his shoulders without Price inflating it anymore. But the Gulag…If his ex-Sergeant and his team hadn't gotten him out of there, he didn't know how much longer he'd last with what they were doing to him. But he knew one thing for sure, if it had been much longer, he'd have used the gun he'd planned to take from the guard and off himself.
To hell if he was going to be killed by some torture specialist in a Russian prison. He'd rather shoot himself. At least then he'd have died on his terms and he'd have the choice. Some kind of natural resilience streak that came with being a Captain for so long, or as Gaz called it 'being a stubborn brit with a stick up his arse'.
Soap didn't deserve to be in here. Not in some scum-riddled Russian work camp, not lying in a disease filled cell and certainly not lying in pain from what Price suspected was some form of Sepsis or septicaemia…
….He didn't deserve to be forced to lie on his side for hours with his head in the other's lap and Price's hand on his neck to make sure he was still alive.
Now more than ever, Price wished he could have shot Soap when he had the chance.
"Soap!" Price rasped out, kneeling down beside his fallen friend. The wind rushed sand pushing over them and stinging into the wounds on his face, courtesy of the now dead son of a bitch General. The only part of his mind that wasn't overtaken by panic at seeing how pale MacTavish's skin was busy researching back through the fight. Price didn't remember killing Shepherd… last he remembered, the bastard was beating the crap out of him and Price was quickly losing the fight.
A dash of red caught his eye, drawing the older Captain's attention to the blood stained glove on Soap's hand. It lay at the end of a trail of blood which led to Shepherd…
…with a knife in his eye, and the knife which had once been in Soap's abdomen was gone.
"You bloody Muppet…" Price shook his head, ignoring the throbbing headache the slight movement had caused. He had to smile at the spark of pride he felt that his subordinate had the guts to literally pull the knife from his own chest to kill his team mate's murderer.
It was only then that Price noticed the blood stains across MacTavish's shirt and padding. Of course pulling a knife out would cause bleeding! He mentally slapped himself, more than willing to do it physically for not noticing faster but his hands were already at work pulling back the layers of clothing to finally reach what he was searching for.
"Shite Soap…" Price breathed out before his mind had processed the words, blue eyes widening at the sight of the wound, blood surrounding and filling the gaping gash making it nearly impossible to judge how deep the wound was.
He growled lowly, hacking slightly to rid the painful tingling of a cough building in his throat. Captain Price reached around into the back of his vest with one hand while keeping his free hand pressed down against Soap's chest wound to help slow the bleeding at the very least.
They hadn't expected to get out of this. Hell, they hadn't even imagined they'd kill Shepherd and all his soldiers, and still be alive afterwards. That was one of the reasons Price had declined Nikolai's offer to pick the two up afterwards…another being if the Shadow Corp's had reinforcements close by, he didn't want the pilot getting himself caught in the crossfire for nothing but to find the two's bodies.
And that decision might have just sealed their death certificates.
Soap groaned, drifting in and out of consciousness. He raised his own hand shakily, pressing it against Price's arm and trying to push away the hand and stop it from causing more pain to his abdomen. It fucking hurt enough without anything else added to it.
"Relax you idiot" Price chuckled at how much MacTavish was acting like a child and trying to push his hand away despite knowing full well that Price wasn't about to let that happen. For a moment, Price wondered if Soap DID know that, he was losing a lot of blood…
Price only allowed Soap to push his hand away from the wound for a moment before immediately pulling the combat gauze from his vest with the other hand and stuffing it with non-existent gentility into the wound, earning a pain-laced grunt from the man on the ground.
"Hang in there" Price whispered uncharacteristically. Glancing up at the sky through the sandy wind veil, he sighed at knowing the little hope of their rescue coming. He turned down to his friend, seeing glassy blue eyes looking up at him in confusion and disorientation. What concerned Price the most was how pale and clammy his skin was becoming, he couldn't do much for shock or blood loss with his simple field first-aid kit. He already lost Gaz and Griggs, he'll be damned before he loses Soap too.
"Price…" Soap's voice was tinted with confusion, as if he was asking if Price was actually there or not.
"Aye… this is your own bloody fault Soap" Price smiled slightly, gesturing to the knife wound.
Soap scoffed, pausing for a slight moment before his body wracked with a violent coughing fit causing Price to cringe at the sight of blood being launched out from Soap's throat. He moved one hand from the wound and tightly clenched his hand around MacTavish's shoulder.
"You're gonna be alright?" He once again mentally slapped himself for such a stupid question with an obvious answer.
Soap nodded, almost out of instinctive reaction. "Aye…aslong as..when we get back to base? …" He paused for a moment, evening out his breathing. "No …Isayev" a smirk broke on his bloodied face, the origin of the blood being his nose which was likely broken after being smashed against a car and a certain bastard's shoe. "Or any other ugly nurses…"
"Isayev is a medic….and a man" Price smiled slightly in amusement.
"Don't stop him…from being ugly"
Price snorted out a laugh, if his sense of humour was still intact he was pretty sure Soap would be fine. But that didn't mean he was going to let the man lie in pain while he thought of some way to contact Nikolai.
"Alright Soap" Price pulled the hand away from MacTavish's shoulder and into another pocket on his vest. "I'm giving you a shot of morphine, just till help com-"
"Yer not doping me up Price..." Soap narrowed his eyes at Price's hand in the vest.
"Are you going to try and stop me? You can barely keep your eyes open" Price pulled the syringe from the vest pocket, popping off the red cap and squirting a few drops out and getting rid of any air bubbles. He smirked at Soap's silence before quickly stabbing the needle down into the other's leg.
"Sonnuva-" Soap bit down on his lip only for a moment. His eyes turned slightly glazed and his body un-tensed as the injection had an immediate effect on his system.
"Good boy" Price chuckled, seeing Soap's middle finger twitch on his left hand, rising slightly higher than the other fingers before falling back down again. Price shook his head in amusement and glanced quickly around the area as a sound he knew very well after years of service.
The sound of rotor blades on a helicopter.
Price could see the shadow of the heli landing only a little away from the two. He inwardly groaned, is this is Nikolai he was going to punch him in the face, give him a lecture on following orders and then he'll thank him for saving their asses…the last part could wait until later.
The flicker of hope that had formed was extinguished as quickly as it caught when the heli landed and several dark shadows jumped out from it, heading straight towards them like ghosts in the sand with their camouflage. Even with their camouflage, Price could recognise their weapons and armour from this distance.
Shadow corps… Shepherds fucking drone-soldiers.
Their guns had been swept away when he and Soap had gone over the waterfall. Price had also lost his knife in the rush to get out of the water and after a quick check of Soap's inventory it became obvious his knife and gun were also gone while Shepherd's knife was still lodged in the man's eye. Leaving only one other weapon…
Price turned, looking around and seeing the glint of metal from the magnum revolver. After a quick glance back at the Shadow Corps he lunged for the gun, his fingers barely brushing the handle from the distance but it was enough to pull it closer and let his hand wrap around it, pulling it back. Price sat back up and opened the cylinder, cursing under his breath at the sight of only one bullet and about 20 Shadow corps coming towards them.
One bullet for twenty people… those were bad odds that even Price didn't like.
One bullet = one man and that would leave 19 more for him to fight off without a weapon…simply put, it would be suicide. He could always fire at the pilot of the heli, maybe once the Shadow corps saw their teammate dead it might convince them to leave under the false impression that they were facing a larger force than two men. But that was unlikely. Shadow Corps were trained and handpicked by Shepherd particularly for their habit of never leaving an operation until their target was either dead or captured. And on that slim chance, he'd be sacrificing the only bullet on a slight chance which was very unlikely to work.
A hacking cough pulled Price out of his planning mental state and brought his attention back to MacTavish. The combat gauze had turned a brilliant shade of crimson which was at a complete contrast to the paleness of his skin. He was in pain even with the morphine.
One bullet = One man. One man who didn't need to feel any more pain.
Price looked down at MacTavish as his friends chest shuddered with every intake of air and every exhale ended with a slight cough or groan. Price turned away from him for a moment and raised his head to the Shadow Corps that were now more visible to them. He shook his head at how desperate the plan was… but Price had survived the torture in the Gulag, he could survive whatever these bastards would do. Soap on the other head was already wounded, in pain and wouldn't last very long if they decided to try him against the kind of things they'd done in that Russian shit-hole.
Price took a deep breath and pressed the barrel of the gun to the side of Soap's head who gasped sharply at the cool metal touching his skin.
"I'm sorry mate…" Price whispered, seeing Soap looking back up at him but not fully there with him as the morphine was still in effect. The Scot's eyes slid shut and his head rolled slightly against the gun. A shout came from in front of them as one of the Shadow Corp's saw them. Price shook his head, pressing his finger to the trigger and making sure his subordinate and friend didn't have to live through any more pain… he better tell Gaz and Griggs he said hi. Price pulled the trigger.
Click.
No…Price's eyes shot open as the gun jammed. He unconsciously shook his head in disbelief, only able to be in shock for half-a-second before a gunshot sounded and pain exploded in his shoulder, forcing him to land backwards and send the magnum revolver sliding from his grasp. Price could hear the hurried footsteps of the Shadow Corps and the shouts between them as they discovered the General's body. Darkness swirled around the edges of his eyes sight, the adrenaline in the rush to save the other captain fading and all the painful injuries he'd sustained in the fall, rush and fight made themselves known to his body.
Even when dead, it seemed Shepherd had stopped Price from helping his team mate… The General still managed to destroy hope for them. The last thing Price saw before darkness claimed him was the look of hatred on the Shadow Corp's face as they stood over the fallen captains.
MacTavish groaned under his breath, both from pain and from the silence of Price. He pulled his gaze from his old Captain and turned his head to the side so he was facing one of the four pathetic excuses for walls of their cell.
Despite trying to convince himself that he didn't need Price's help and that the old man should worry more about himself… he couldn't even agree with a lie that obvious. According to Price, when they'd brought the two in to….wherever the fuck they were… the shadow corps had all but dragged Soap away and then thrown him into the cell with Price a few hours later with a half ass stitching job on his chest and only enough medicine to keep him from passing out and dying before they could draw it out. A badly sealed chest wound combined with a dirt smeared cell was bound to lead to an infection. Soap had known that and had accepted it. What he didn't accept or prepare for, was blood poisoning which Price suspected he had from a secondary infection.
But what did it matter anyway? They were going to die one way or another in this pit of hell. Either from execution, working to exhaustion or now the latest option, dying from a stupid infected knife wound. At this current point, after fuck knows how long they've been in here, Soap didn't care and he doubted Price did anymore than him.
They were dead… He'd killed the bastard who took his team-his friend's lives… so why didn't he feel any better? He should feel at least a little better knowing that Shepherd won't go on to drag their names through the dirt and use them as his scapegoats…
The names Simon 'Ghost' Riley and Gary 'Roach' Sanderson.
That's what would be on their gravestones if the two had them. But they didn't…their bodies would be burned to ashes by now and likely blown away in the wind and scattered across enemy territory. They'd died because he told them to trust Shepherd and because he hadn't warned them in time…
Soap shuddered as another cold chill shot down his spine, causing his shoulders to shake once again. It felt like his head has been detached from the rest of his body. While his head was heavy and hot, the rest of his body felt numb and cold. He knew he was shivering, but he couldn't do anything to stop it.
The shadow corps took their vests and uniforms before they were put into the cells. Changing them into torn fabric trousers, dirty beige t-shirts covered in dry blood and worn-down leather boots. Soap would have been angry if he wasn't glad to be out of the uniform. One of his favourite things about getting back to base after a mission was pulling the gear off and folding it back into the drawers. Making sure it was 'out of sight and out of mind'.
A ghost of a smile passed across his face as he thought back to the one time Ghost had caught wind of his little 'habit'
"Something wrong?"
Soap immediately jumped up at the noise, regretting it when the action caused his head to thump off the open top drawer. He growled, pulling one hand from the bottom drawer to rub the sore spot and stayed where he was… bent over between the two open drawers with only the middle being closed.
"No, why are yah askin'?" He groaned out as his fingers touched over the growing bump.
"You jumped like a spring rabbit when I walked in" Soap would practically hear the smirk in the masked-man's voice.
"Piss off Riley" Soap sighed, standing up and taking care to avoid the top drawer before stretching out the kinks in his back from being bent over for too long.
Ghost shook his head. He checked to make sure the door behind him was closed before pulling his balaclava off. "Alright Tav, what's going on? You ran straight off the heli, skipped the debriefing and I had to cover your ass from Shepherd" The annoyance in the lieutenant's voice was clear. No one like the after-mission debrief, especially not the ones who had to inform the general of exactly what happened during it and then answer his questions only to have to type it all out again in the mission report.
Soap sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and shooting another look around the room before turning to Ghost. "I lost it"
"You sure you had it?"
"Of course I'm bloody sure I-" Soap's face went slack at the smirking lieutenant at realising what he meant. "I don't mean that… and my mind's a hell'uva lot more intact than yours"
"No arguments" Ghost shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "So what did you lose?"
"My dog tags…" Soap grumbled, not liking in the slightest that he, the Captain of the 141… had lost his identity tags, especially so soon after Shepherd had lectured the entire base on the importance of keeping them safe.
Ghost blinked at him, gears whirling in his head as he tried to process the information. "You…'lost' your dog tags?"
"Yes" MacTavish growled, looking around the room and immediately cringing at the sight of items and clothing strewn around the floor and over furniture that he'd thrown about while searching for the tags. He sighed and began picking the items closest to him off the floor. Not looking up at hearing Ghost scoff.
"When Archer said you had OCD, he wasn't joking"
"Did you come here to annoy me or is there a reason?" Soap looked up at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
Ghost grinned. "I thought annoying you counted as a reason?" He shook his head. "Nah, I came to first kick your arse for leaving me alone during the debriefing-"
"You're old and ugly enough to handle yourself Simon"
"Funny" Riley said emotionlessly and without humour in his voice. "Second, I came to see what had you in such a panic-"
"Now you know why, so what's the third reason?"
"If you'd stop interrupting me before I finished then maybe I could get there…" He paused, waiting for MacTavish to interrupt him again. When he didn't, Ghost continued. "And lastly, to give you an update on Roach"
Soap stopped lifting the clothing immediately and turned to his second-in-command, his expression urging him to continue.
"I'm sorry mate…." Simon sighed sadly, looking away and causing Soap's heart to stop for a second.
"fuck…" Soap muttered, falling back and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Unfortunately….he's alive and still breathing" Ghost continued, a smirk growing on his face before it was covered by a shirt being flung over his face.
"Bloody hell Ghost!" Soap glared at him. "You nearly gave me a heart attack"
Ghost laughed, pulling the shirt from his bare face and tossing it back at the Captain's chest before sitting down beside him. "Come on mate, you know that annoying bug can't be killed… not by falling from a four-storey building, not by an RPG, not by falling from a cliff face into a mine field, not by getting shot straight into and the bullet being stuck in the femoral artery and most recently, not by taking cover behind a car and then the car, with a full tank, being blown up when a grenade rolled under it" Ghost grinned, seeming proud of himself for his list.
"When you say it like that… I think we need to set Roach with private training…" Soap chuckled, smiling in relief as the tension finally left after he believed the death of the young Sergeant. "How's he doing?"
Ghost shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "Burns along the back and sides, Doc says it was from when he started running from the car after seeing the grenade. Shrapnel and glass shards stuck along his arms and a little in his back. None of the shards or shrapnel hit anything vital… just narrowly and Doc said the burns will heal with next to no scarring. Worst injury is a bang to the head when he got launched into the wall so he's a bit disorientated… other than that, just scrapes and bruises. Kid's pretty damn lucky"
"Why do you think we call him Roach?" MacTavish smirked, leaning forward and propping his elbows up on his knees and linking his fingers. "He can walk away from an automobile/grenade explosion with a bump on the head and cuts and bruises"
Ghost shook his head as an amused smile played on his face. Another quick glance around the usually clean room brought a chuckle from him. "Oh and Tav?"
"hmm?"
Ghost reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver chain with two inscribed plates dangling from it. "You may want these back"
"How did-"
"Found them on the floor of the Heli"
"I didn't-"
"There's also a tear in the pocket on your Kevlar vest"
"You're interrupting me on pur-"
"Purpose to get revenge for you interrupting me last time?" Ghost grinned. "Yes I am" He made to drop the tags into MacTavish's outstretched hand but yanked them back at the last moment. "Who's the best XO in the army?"
"Are you going to give me my tags?" Soap raised an eye brow at him, holding his hand out to his friend.
"Hmm….." Ghost put up a mock thinking face before it broke as his face split with a smile. "No-"
Ghost leapt to his feet as the Captain lunged for him, he ran from the room laughing with MacTavish hot on his heels.
"Soap! Wake up!"
A hand connected sharply with his cheek and MacTavish's eyes snapped open, not remembering when he had fallen asleep. He glared up at the blurred outline of Price as an annoying high pitched buzzing filled his ears. "Wha'?"
Price hooked his arms under Soap's shoulders and dragged him back, watching the cells barred door as several soldiers ran past. "Something's happening"
Captain MacTavish shook his head in an attempt to clear the buzzing. It was only then he fully noticed the blaring alarms going off through the compound and the explosions and gunshots close by. "Probably…'nother prisoner got out…"
"Whatever it is, they're using heavier artillery for this than they did the last time something happened" Price noticed, remembering seeing one guard sprinting past with an RPG over his shoulder. "It's definitely more than one escaped prisoner…"
"Two escapees then" Soap muttered sleepily.
Price looked down at him sceptically, amusement playing across his face. "Oh I'm sorry. Did the loud alarms disrupt your beauty sleep?" He asked in a mock-interested tone.
"Piss off" Soap smiled, closing his eyes and just listening to the sound of the alarms and gunshots. Escaping prisoners had become a common thing in the first few weeks they had been here. Five escapees meant five executions in front of everyone else in the work yard. At least that's what Price had told him. The Shadow Corps had apparently decided that they'd rather keep Soap inside the cell, bored and alive then forcing the sick man to work… that or Price was once again lying to him to cover the fact that he was taking both their workloads.
Stubborn prat.
Soap was pretty sure he had dozed off again as once he opened his eyes he saw Price had jumped to his feet in front of him and was glaring at two guards at the cell door.
"What the hell is it!?" Price clenched his fists tightly, looking between the two masked guards like he was expecting a fight. The alarms were still ringing loudly, making Soap wonder how he slept through them. Soap couldn't see the guards well from on the ground and Price standing between them, what he could see was their legs and the end of one of their guns. An ACR from what he could tell.
A scoff came from one of the guards before he turned to address the other. "Can you believe it? Three months and all we get is that?"
"The fuck are you talking about?" Price growled lowly.
"We'll explain on the way… but you might want to pick Captain MacTavish off the ground so we can get out of here before Ozone finds out that part of the plan is to smash down the outer wall with a tank"
"Ozone?" All hostility was gone from Price's voice.
"Yes sir" A different voice answered, Soap assumed it was the other guard. "And we need to go now or it'll just be more complicated to get you both out of here"
Price nodded and turned to Soap. "Come on Muppet" He wrapped a hand around Soap's wrist and pulled the younger's arm over his shoulder before kneeling and wrapping an arm around his waist to pull MacTavish to his feet. He stood, straightening them both but earning a sharp intake from MacTavish as his injuries were jostled.
"Shit..." The second guard whispered, fully looking at them both.
"Let's move" The first told them, gripping the gun and turning from the cell to quickly glance down the hallway. The guard pressed his fingers to the comm. over his mask as he and the other rushed out ahead of Price and MacTavish. "Nikolai, we've got them. Heading out of the holding cells now and en route to the outer wall"
Price smiled slightly out of relief that Nikolai hadn't tried to get to them and was still alive. He looked down at Soap, seeing the younger's eyes closed again. He quickly shook his subordinate, stomach dropping at seeing he was fully passed out. "We need to move fast"
The second guard shot a quick look back at him and nodded. They reached the end of the corridor and he looked around the corridor. "Hallway clear, Archer must've gotten here before us"
"Archer? He's alive too?"
"And shooting, took down 20 tango's in the yard before we'd even reached the gates" The first guard said with amusement and a hint of pride in his voice.
"Where the hell are you two?!" A shout came from the guard's comm.'s
"Speaking of which…" the second groaned before pressing his fingers to the side of the comm. "we're Archie, is the coast clear?"
"One, don't call me Archie. Two, the coast is full of parked boats and fishers, but the courtyard is clear"
"You know what i-" the second guard stopped and from what Price could tell, was counting back from ten. "Just keep it that way, we're almost there"
"Can do. Toad and I'll keep it clear, just move your asses"
"We don't plan on taking our time" The first guard growled, giving the two Captains a quick glance. "Nikolai, Tell Isayev to get ready for two patients"
Price opened his mouth to tell them that he didn't need any medic's attention but was cut off by a groaning from Soap, his eyes still shut. "Not Isayev…"
Price scoffed out a chuckle. Of course that would be what wakes him up. "No complaining Soap. I don't care how ugly you think he is but he's the one who's going to treat you" The older captain grinned at Soap's whine. What's he got against ugly people? Isayev's a damn good medic and he isn't that bad looking. Soap complains more about him than he does about Makarov.
"Good to know he's not dead yet" The second guard's voice brought Price out from his thoughts seeing the man's face on MacTavish.
"Aye, he's a hard bastard" Price chuckled, knowing how true it was. If Soap could survive being dragged on suicide missions with Price and their old squad, one of which included stopping a series of nuclear missiles from killing millions of Americans when they weren't certain they would receive the de-activation codes in time from Russia and immediately being pursued by a one-armed terrorist afterwards, then he was practically guaranteed to survive just about anything. "Check your corners" He reminded the two guards.
The first guard chuckled just barely audibly ahead of them, crouched against one wall and checking the way ahead. Though the littered bodies strewn across the halls made it pretty clear this place had been cleared out earlier. "One"
Price's eye brow rose at him sceptically as he leaned MacTavish down against the wall to let the younger captain rest for a moment. It would be easier to for them all to get out if he was conscious. "Excuse me?"
"It's like your catchphrase" The second guard laughed with the first. "'Check your corners' Captain MacTavish said he and his old friend, Gaz would bet how many times you'd say it in one mission and then count every time you say it"
"Oh did he now" Price made a mental note for himself to bring it up later if only to see the look on Soap's face when he does. A sharp hiss caught his attention back to the fallen Captain, seeing the younger shifting himself in an attempt to sit straighter up against the wall, his eyes staring around at the dimly lit corridor.
"Where the bloody..hell are we?" Icy blue eyes narrowed at the two guards before turning to the one man he was sure he knew. "Price?"
"We're getting out of here Soap, that's what" Price lifted one of the dead soldier's guns, An AK-47, and inspected the ammunition inside. Empty, fuck. After a further search he came across a Walther P22 strapped across his vest with a full round. Well it wasn't going to be doing the dead bloke any good, and if it helped them to get out of the shit hole then it was being put to good use.
Soap scoffed, "You went ahead with that crap es-…escape plan?" He noticed the way the first guard glanced away from around the corner and over his shoulder at him when his voice gave out, he just ignored it.
"No, I couldn't have rigged the home-made explosive in the courtyard and then made it back to the cell in time to get you Soap, that plan was scraped." Price pulled the safety from the gun and walking back to MacTavish. "This is a new plan"
"Which is?"
"Shut your mouth and follow these two muppets out of here"
"Muppets?" The second guard looked away from where he was covering the corridor behind them and gave Price a look which clearly meant 'are you shitting me?' "We save your asses and you call us Muppets"
Price shrugged, not looking in the slightest bit sorry. "You're about to walk out of here with two highly dangerous 'shoot on sight' captives and have definitely blown your cover, yet you're still wearing that ridiculous disguise."
A pause of silence followed that statement, making Price and Soap wonder if the man had taken offence to that comment. After a few moments the helmet and face cover was pulled from the man's head, showing a head of scruffy light brown hair and green eyes that MacTavish thought would haunt him. "Roach?... no-..no fucking way…"
A grin played on Roach's face. The look on the Captain's faces was just priceless. "Yeah fuckin' way. That or I'm a Ghost"
"Ghost? And he's…" MacTavish caught the look of distress in the Sergeant's eyes and diverted his gaze down to the dirt smeared floor.
"I'm sorry sir…" The flicker of mourning quickly faded from the American's green eyes to be replaced by a look of amusement. "Unfortunately, He's still alive too"
The first guard scoffed behind them. "Stole my line mate" MacTavish and Price both turned from Roach's grinning face, meeting with the guard's back and a head covered in dark brown, bordering on black hair until a fabric mask was pulled over and covered the hair and neck. He turned, giving the three men a full view of the skull painted mask and reflective sunglasses.
"Hey mate"
MacTavish's mind was paralyzed. Nope, this was another sick, guilt and fever-induced dream, another way for his mind to just torture him more. Yet of all the things his dream self could have said it had to be, "You're dead"
He could almost feel the eye-roll that happened behind the glasses. That annoying, familiar trait. "Congratulations Tav, I'm dead. I'm not here busting your ass out of a Russian Prison camp, this is just your imagination talking"
"Sarcastic bastard" MacTavish mumbled, causing Ghost to grin further behind the mask.
"Well, you know me-"
"If you're all done with the family reunion, a few of the guys called for reinforcements before we could take them out. We need to get the fuck out of here!" Toad's voice crackled loudly through the comm.'s
Roach pressed his fingers to the side of his comm. "We're almost to the courtyard, just waiting for the go ahead" He called through. "Is it all clear?"
"Well you've got it! Cleared out, now move your asses and get out of there"
"Solid copy" Ghost spoke back quickly, recognising the way Roach looked as the one he got when he was about to say something he thought was either very snarky or very clever but ended up being nothing but childish and embarrassing. "Keep it that way …and tell Ozone about the tank" He smirked when Price raised an eyebrow at them.
"You were being serio-" Price shook the thought from his head and hooked and arm under MacTavish's shoulder, lifting the other up on his feet. "-Forget it. Let's move."
The lieutenant nodded, standing from his crouched position and turned around the corner he had previously been defending, Price following behind with MacTavish and Roach covering them all from behind to avoid anyone coming up on their blindside. The dim bulb that lit the hallway sparked out, leaving the group of four in total darkness.
"Damn it" Ghost cursed from in front of them. Price's eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness from habit. "Keep it tight, Roach cover the rear and I'll keep point in front. Price, Tav just stay close"
Price scoffed, holding the Walther P22 tightly in his free hand. "I'm not an invalid. I'll cover the sides-"
"Me too" Soap mumbled. Price looked down at him and nearly sputtered in shock at the outline of a Desert Eagle clutched in Soap's hand.
"How long have you had that?"
Price felt Soap's shoulder raise in a shrug against his own, "It's a recent…development" A small cough stopped him before he continued, "Found it on a dead guard…when I was against..the wall"
Price nodded, "Can you still shoot?"
"Of course I can fuckin' shoot"
"Alright grump, just making sure" Price chuckled at the puppy-glare Soap was giving him. "No need to get pissy about it" MacTavish maturely answered him by curling down all his fingers but leaving the middle one fully erect.
They stopped at the end of the corridor, Ghost pressed up against the side of the closed door, holding his M4 rifle tightly. "Archer, we're heading out to the courtyard from the exit on the left side of the building."
"Solid copy, we won't shoot you on sight"
"We appreciate it" Roach muttered, reloading his SCAR-H behind them.
"Quiet Bug" Ghost called back. He pushed the door open, the bright midday sun blinding them all for a moment. They only paused briefly to let their eyesight adjust to the sudden change. It would be no good trying to reach the LZ if they couldn't even see where they were going. The courtyard was deadly silent, littered across with the bodies of soldiers and prisoners alike.
"This isn't all the prisoners here" Price spoke up, following after Ghost as they crossed across the cracked paved ground. He remembered the brick walls surrounding them from the daily times they had been released into the courtyard and the barbed wire wrapped on top to prevent escape. The body count of corpse's without the guard uniform was far from the amount of people that he spoke with earlier that day. All the men who talked about going back to their families once they were out of the camp. "Where are the rest of them?"
"The ones that didn't side with the guards and tried to take us out?" Ghost asked rhetorically. "They turned and helped us take the Tango's down. Should be waiting at the outer wall for Ozone to crash it dow-"
"SHIT! You need to move now!" Toad's panicked voice came through the comm.'s to them. "The reinforcements are here and they're armed with RPG's!"
"We're almost to the outer wall! Get Ozon- FUCK!" Roach's cry fell short as they were blown from the ground and overtaken by the explosion of cement and dust.
Price's back crashed to the ground. He barely registered the shouting around them as more guards poured from the building and into the courtyard before his vision darkened to black.
"You never answered me before"
The addressed Sergeant glanced up from the leather bound book in his lap. He shifted a bit on the jeep's hood from the Captain's gaze. "Which question was it? You've asked a lot of them"
Pulling the smoking cigar from his mouth, the captain pushed out the wisps of smoke, watching it rise in the already smouldering desert air of their base. A normal routine morning, sounds coming from the basketball area as several of the men had split into two teams of four and two of them had decided to change the game from basketball to wrestling. The others, rather than help their comrades, were betting on who would win. Gunshots were distant to them from the firing range where Gaz was taking the practice. Price still thought that if Gaz had known whoever had the fastest time on the course had to watch the others take it and comment on where they could improve, he wouldn't have tried so hard to beat Price's time.
"Your call sign… what the hell kind of name is Soap?"
A quiet chuckled came from the man sitting on the Jeep hood as he returned to sketching in his journal. "I didn't answer before, what makes you think you're getting an answer now?"
"I'm your captain, I out-rank you and you don't have a choice" Price could have listed off more reasons, the most important of them being 'Cause it's bugging me and I want to know why in the hell you picked that for a name'.
Soap scoffed at Price's list. "Nice try old man." He sighed and snapped the book shut, setting it on the hood beside him. "Yah really wanna know?"
Catching the questioning look in Soap's eye, Price almost said 'no bloody way'. But curiosity on the matter got the better of him and he nodded. "Aye"
Soap nodded and leaned his elbows back against the window of the jeep. "Then yah better park your arse, cause it's a long story"
Given no other option, Price leaned against the door of the jeep. Only now did the phrase 'Curiosity killed the cat' come to mind.
"I got stuck with it for a bunch of reasons. The main point being, I suck at any cleaning liquid. Whether it's detergent, fabric softener or anything like soap, I suck at it. The first time I was put on laundry duty for the Marine's, I accidently flooded half the barracks in bubbles and suds."
Price looked at him sceptically and thought that he was joking, but noticing the embarrassed look in the sergeant's eyes put all thoughts of speaking off.
"The next was when I was put in charge of polishing the Captain's medal collection as a punishment for the bubble-boat incident, as everyone decided to put it. He handed me a bottle of polish, a rag and told me to get to work. I did and, don't ask how, the floor of the captain's room was slippery for a month afterwards. Apparently rubbing the polish in doesn't clean it up" Soap ducked his head down a little at hearing Price's barely held in chuckle.
"Sorry mate" Price smiled apologetically, "And after that?"
Soap sighed and Price would swear he was blushing. "The next was…Well, everyone knew that both incidents were the fault of yours truly and they decided to prank the new guy. When I got into the shower, they stole my towel and I had no choice but to go looking for it-"
"-in the nude?" Price smirked as MacTavish's face darkened 20 shades of red.
"Aye" He nodded. "Not a good idea, as soon as I stepped out of the room, everyone was standing there with camera's and laughing. I was embarrassed and I grabbed the first thing my hand touched to cover myself… which was a pink bar of soap…"
Soap paused like he was waiting for Price to laugh at him. He looked at the Captain a minute later when he didn't hear anything.
Price met his eye and smirked wider. "Do the marines still have those photos?"
"Shut up old man" Soap glared when Price laughed loudly.
"Alright, those are all pretty bad. Anything else happen?"
Soap nodded. "I poisoned the ship's fresh water with bleach, accidently dyed the uniforms orange, filled the gun-nozzles' with shower gel, turned half the men pink, Don't ask and I also managed to somehow replace the Captain's pillow with a potato sack with a seagull inside and even I don't know how I did that."
"Hmm…"Price nodded thoughtfully. "No wonder they were so happy when you were transferred here"
Soap laughed, shrugging his shoulders and smiling at the memories. "I was their only source of entertainment. You'd be surprised how boring living on that ship was. On the up-side, They set me up with a lot more training than usual since that was the only thing I couldn't fuck-up" He shook his head a bit, thinking back on everything before the SAS. "Did that ever happen to you?"
Price thought for a moment, taking another drag from his cigar. "Depends on what you mean?"
"I mean entertainme- um.. incidents" Soap caught himself, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face as he thought about his current Captain having done anything as embarrassing as he had done.
"Nope" Price answered simply, seeing Soap's disbelieving look and shaking his head. "Fine. The worst thing I ever did was when I let Gaz talk me into putting pink hair dye into Grigg's shampoo. He knew it was us right away. Or more so, he knew it was Gaz but he didn't believe that I had any part in it when Gaz tried to blame me"
Soap blinked a few times at him, imagining the two sneaking into Grigg's room and carrying out a Prank… PRICE… pulled a PRANK!? "Hair Dye in shampoo?"
"Aye" Price caught the mischievous smirk on the younger's face and glared at him. "Don't get any ideas…"
"Cross my heart Old man"
The Captain knew exactly who to blame when he came out of his shower the next morning with Green hair. Though he oddly believed the prankster when he swore Price's hair was supposed to be dyed blue.
Price came around to a dull buzzing in his ears, his body feeling numb, the faint beeping and an annoying bright light shining through his eye-lids. After a few moments of trying to grasp what he had left of the memory that passed through his mind, he noticed the easily place able smell that he'd been unwillingly stuck with before.
The smell of hospitals.
After calming himself, Price thought back to why he was in the hospital in the first place. He was out of the Gulag so it wasn't the medic bay in the Russian prison. Russian… he and Soap were in the Prison Camp. Two guards got them out, Riley and Sanderson. Sanderson shouted when- The RPG! The RPG fired when they were in the courtyard and they were overwhelmed. Satisfied with the deduction of his last conscious moments, Price decided it was time to figure out what happened after he lost consciousness.
His eyes slowly opened, bit by bit to adjust to the light though he hand tilted his head away from the lamp suspended above him. His eyesight was annoyingly blurred and although it was clearing, it was clearing far too slow for the Captain's liking. The beeping became more noticeable now and Price placed the source of the noise to his left where his eye's noted the outline of a sort of box on a metal stand. The screen on the box showed a moving green line across it and several numbers along the top. With clearer vision, he recognised the figures as his breathing, heart rate and his blood pressure.
When he attempted to flex some feeling back into arm he felt a constriction and then noticed the wire in his bicep, held in place by a bandage. Price followed the wire and found the wire was coming from an IV beside the monitor. Well, at least that explained why he felt numb.
The sterile smell was sharper now and his vision clearer. Though it wasn't entirely back it was enough. Price recognised the white painted walls and more specifically, the crack in the wall directly in front of the bed as the one he caused when he first arrived here after they had brought him back from the Gulag. He was in the infirmary in the one-four-one base.
"Nice to see you're still alive son"
Price jumped at the thick-Scottish voice, cursing himself for being off guard for so long though he relaxed at recognising the voice of the man in the bedside chair immediately.
"Mac?" He turned to the smiling face of Captain MacMillan. His dark salt-and-pepper speckled hair and hardened, cool blue eyes seeming warmer than Price remembered them being.
"What in the hell possessed you to go after Shepherd?" The smile melted from his face and his eyes returned to the cold blue that Price recognised.
Of course Mac, I'm fine thanks for asking. I just choose to lie in a hospital bunk for the fun of it. Rather than voicing those thoughts, Price chose another question. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
MacMillan smirked a little at the question, "I'm filling in after your latest mission" His smirk grew into a grin at the confusion on Price's face. "It's General MacMillan now"
Price looked at him for a moment, "You were promoted?"
"And posted in charge of the Taskforce141. Due to you and Captain MacTavish murdering your last general-"
"It wasn't murder. We were stopping him dragging the world into another world war." Price defended them before he picked up on what MacMillan said. "How's Soap?"
MacMillan shrugged. "Could be better, could be worse. What do you mean another worl-"
"I want to see him" Price cut his old Captain off, already unwinding the bandage from his bicep. The tightness of his side brought his attention down to the long, stitched gash that crossed down from the bottom of his ribcage and ended at his hip. He didn't feel any pain yet, courtesy of the drug cocktail they were pumping into his system through the IV. Speaking of which, he slid the wire out from his bicep and held the unwound bandage over the opening to soak up the blood.
"That's not going to happen Price" MacMillan leaned forward, clenching a hand on Price's shoulder to halt his movements. "The medic's are still treating him. You haven't been unconscious that long son"
"Mac" Price shrugged the General's hand from his shoulder. "Once I'm sure he's alright, I'll explain everything you want to know."
MacMillan inwardly groaned, recognising that Price's stubborn attitude hadn't changed in the slightest. "Alright, but only for a few minutes. Then we'll talk" MacMillan stood from the chair and waited for Price to finish unhooking himself from the monitors. He was well aware that any move to help the Captain would only earn Price grumbling about not needing any help.
Some things never change.
"So I was right about the Septicaemia" Price mumbled to himself, walking into the Intensive Care ward of the infirmary. Getting out of the ridiculous tunic they dressed him in had been more difficult than he thought with the possibility of tearing the carefully done stitches on his side.
"Aye. With the amount of antibiotics and painkillers they've got him on I'd be surprised if he wakes up before tomorrow" Macmillan nodded as he walked beside Price. The infirmary had to keep the same standards as hospitals, thought the building and wards were on a much smaller scale. Sometimes the soldiers on return from a mission were too injured to survive a trip to the closest hospital and their lives could rest in the hands of the medics in the infirmary.
"Nah, that'll just be him and his lazy arse" Price chuckled, looking through the doors to each of the rooms they passed. Most were empty though two were occupied. One with a man alone on one bed attached to several monitoring machines and the last one they came to was the one they wanted.
Soap lay unmoving on the bed, his pale skin had gained more of its colour back thought it was still ashen and sickly looking. An oxygen mask covered the lower half of the young man's face and two IV lines connected into his wrist, linked to the IV bag's on a pole beside a monitor identical to the one Price was hooked to. Another pole on the other side of the captain's bed held a bag of blood which was connected to a tube in his arm. The cotton blankets were pulled over his chest to the point where Price could just barely see the top of the bandages. A blue oximeter clipped on his left hand.
Price moved almost without knowing and sat down on the seat beside the infirmary cot. He smiled a bit at MacMillan who chose to stand beside the door. "Well, at least he's looking better already" He glanced up at the monitor, reading the heart rate. 138bpm, it was still too high but at least it was coming down.
MacMillan scoffed lightly, leaning against the doorframe. "You both looked like shit when you were dragged in. It's a lucky thing you had those snipers holding back the reinforcements and that the lieutenant and sergeant were still conscious after the explosion or I doubt you'd have made it out"
"Remind me to thank them later then. Nikolai too" Price patted down on the other Captain's shoulder. MacTavish's hand twitched slightly at the contact, relieving Price of the worry from the proof that he was responsive.
"Price" MacMillan brought back the man's attention. "About Shepherd-"
"Before you ask, No. I didn't kill the bastard" Price's answer clearly surprised MacMillan for a moment as shown by the wide blue eyes and silence that held for a minute.
"Then who did?" MacMillan pressed.
Price smirked a little in pride. "You're looking at him" He nodded down to Soap. At MacMillan's unreadable expression he continued. "Shepherd betrayed them Mac. He tried to kill us all. We thought he DID kill Sanderson and Riley. He wanted to be a fucking war hero, all to boost morale and recruit numbers. We followed him to Hotel site Bravo-" The last thing that MacMillan needed to know right now was that they received the location from Makarov. "-But we went over the falls and lost most of our weapons. When I got out of the river, Soap was gone. We both agreed that we weren't going to survive it and we accepted that, as long as we bring Shepherd down with us."
"Yet you're both alive and he's the one that's dead." MacMillan pointed out.
"If his Shadow Company hadn't crashed, we wouldn't have. That was just luck" Price explained, "When I reached Shepherd, Soap was on the ground with a knife in his chest and the fucker was about to shoot him. I tackled him, we fought hand-to-hand for a while but I was exhausted from the fall and the sprint. He overpowered me and beat me unconscious. Then when I came to, he was dead with a knife in his eye and the knife in Soap's chest was gone"
"So he threw the knife that was in his own chest at Shepherd?"
"Yup. He's a muppet, but he's got some balls to do that" Price chuckled. "I've already given him a lashing about it"
"Honestly, It sounds like something that you would do" MacMillan smirked a bit at the un-amused glare Price was sending at him. "Crazy with a hint of suicidal-acceptance added to it"
"Funny." Price rolled his eyes. "Why haven't Riley and Sanderson told you what happened?"
"They have. They were witnesses in the case to clear your names off the blacklist and convince the government you weren't terrorists" MacMillan answered him. "I just needed to make sure all your accounts added up. And you've all come clean about what happened. That and I was wondering why he was the one beat up if you were the one who killed Shepherd unless he was a distraction. But after knowing you for as long as I have, you'd never sacrifice a man for a distraction"
"Damn straight." Price grinned.
They were back. They were free and finally back to normal.
"So what now?"
"Now? We have a Russian terrorist to kill. Makarov"