Following the events of "F.N.G.":
"So what was it?" Gaz asked.
As always, Price and Gaz were the first to make it to the helicopter. They had just finished going over the assault plan for the cargo-ship mission.
"What was what?" Price grunted, inspecting the helicopter's rotors.
"The score. Do I still hold the record?"
Price rolled his eyes. "You still have the record. The new guy clocked in at twenty seconds, not nineteen."
"How many rounds did he use?" Gaz asked, tipping his head in curiosity.
"Ten," Price answered, now checking his gear. "All head shots."
"Ten targets and ten head shots," Gaz repeated. "Price, you realize that if we shaved off about three seconds for accuracy like we do for the rest of the team, the F.N.G. just beat all our records?"
"Most of our records," Price corrected. "I still have my record of fifteen-point-one seconds if we're subtracting an additional three."
"You don't trust him the field yet, do you?" Gaz said, reading his superior officer's tone.
Price turned toward the group of men heading for the helicopter.
Soap silently brought up the rear.
"You know me, Gaz," Price said, turning back to his friend. "I don't trust anyone."
Gaz chuckled checked his own gear.
A few seconds later, Price turned to the men who had just reached the helicopter. "Let's get going."
Everyone boarded the helicopter.
The journey to their destination was conducted in silence.
Price glanced at the new recruit across from him.
Soap's eyes were alert, frequently looking outside the chopper.
"Five minutes to destination," the pilot announced.
"Very good," Price said, turning to his men. "Check weapons."
The sound of weapons being stocked and restocked could barely heard over the storm raging around the chopper.
Price and Gaz finished checking their weapons with Soap finishing a mere second later.
…
Soon enough, the ship came into view. After glancing at the gear that would bring them down to the deck, Soap's eyes settled upon a holstered pistol across from him, admiring the craftsmanship and quality of the weapon.
"You like that pistol?" Price grunted.
Soap looked up from the pistol and saw its owner glaring at him.
Price slowly lowered the cigar that, rumor has it, he smoked before and after every mission.
Unsure of what to say, Soap just nodded.
"Don't touch it," Price said quietly. He leaned in close, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. "Ever."
Price leaned back and glanced at the ever-closing ship, acting as though the exchange had never happened.
"He means it, mate," Gaz said, breaking the momentary silence that followed. "The first time I held it, he nearly broke my nose. Oh, and don't ask for a cigar either. He doesn't share."
Ten minutes later, the infiltration began.
After a few minor skirmishes, Price led the squad to the lower levels of the ship and into the cargo area where they encountered heavy resistance. The squad was forced to split up to cover more ground.
Soap went along the right wall and found himself surrounded by large shipping containers. A security officer charged around the corner of the container to Soap's left with a Desert Eagle handgun raised.
Soap quickly swung his rifle, knocking the gun from the officer's hand. The man recovered quickly, tugging aside Soap's own rifle and kicking it out of his grasp. As the man tried to grab the knife from Soap's belt, Soap charged into him, propelling them out of cover and into a small shipping container with a stack of boxes piled on top.
A bullet pinged off the wall beside Soap. Realizing that he had put himself near a firefight, Soap immediately grabbed onto the man's shoulders and placed his legs against the small shipping container behind the officer before pushing out and propelling them back into the cover of the larger container.
…
Price saw the Soap throw himself and the Russian back into cover. He glanced at Gaz.
Gaz nodded and began to flank their attackers.
…
Soap fell to the ground beneath the officer as the man reached for his neck. Soap managed to grab the man's arms and roll them over before delivering a punch to the Russian's face. The man got his foot up and kicked Soap backwards to the ground before the S.A.S. soldier could land another blow.
Both men got to their feet. The officer glanced in the direction of Soap's fallen rifle. Soap immediately charged forward. He drew his knife and slashed his foe under the left ribcage and flanked the officer.
Soap followed through by stabbing the man in the back before immediately turning, kicking in the back of the officer's knee, and stabbing him in the chest twice from behind.
Both men slumped to the ground. Seeing boots ahead of him, Soap instinctively reached for his pistol.
"Okay," Gaz said, rounding the corner as he quickly raised his hands. Moving around the pair, he reached down, grabbed Soap's fallen rifle, and tossed it to its owner. Soap caught the weapon with his left hand as Gaz nodded. "Welcome to the team."
Soap rose and rejoined the squad with Gaz. He stayed close until they reached the package.
Soap barely had time to grab the manifest before an explosion rocked the freighter.
The ship began to sink.
…
Price turned right as the helicopter swooped into view. The ship continued to tilt to the side as water washed up onto the freighter. Price ran across the slanted, wet deck and easily made the jump to the helicopter's ramp along with those in front of him.
As the helicopter began to move away, Price turned to see Soap running toward them with the manifest tucked in his vest.
"Jump for it!" shouted one of the men in the helicopter as Price turned to face the pilot.
Price heard Soap hit the ramp and turned as the young soldier started sliding backward toward the watery abyss below.
Price quickly threw aside his rifle and grabbed Soap's flailing arms. "Gotcha."
…
Once inside the helicopter, Soap crawled forward to relative safety and turned to watch the ship sink into the ocean. After a moment, he slowly got up, handing the manifest to Gaz before taking his seat across from Price.
Soap turned again to look at the slowly closing ramp.
…
Price's eyes were fixed on the man he'd just saved. So he does know how to make a mistake. Price leaned back and pulled out a cigar. And he kept the manifest. There may be hope for the boy yet.
…
Soap turned back to see the Captain Price lighting a cigar and checking his pistol.