Chapter 5 - Briefings and Drug Lords

Soap followed Price's footsteps as his eyes ran over the nearby surroundings. It was a medium sized merchant vessel, plated with dark grey, TMCP steel. Price was a fast walker, but Soap's stride kept up with his pace. Many new and unfamiliar faces glanced in his direction as he passed, eventually, he recognized Samson's as he approached. His face was lit up by the many lights that encased the ship's deck.

Samson let a small, friendly smirk spread across his face at the sight of Soap. "Good to see you again. Welcome aboard."

Soap nodded at him.

Samson moved his eyes away from Soap and quickly found the surrounding midnight blue, reflective water. "Price will show you where your room is that you can sleep in for the night. We'll keep this particular evening low-stress and underwhelming. Early tomorrow we can start getting you briefed and get you well-informed with everything it is we do." Samson looked back to Soap who watched him closely with blue-grey eyes. "As of now, I'm sure everything seems so...odd. But don't worry, you'll get acclimated swiftly and all of the team members are, for lack of a better term, friendly. So, tonight just take it easy."

Samson gave him a quick smile and gave him a pat on the arm before walking off. The man possessed fatherly mannerisms despite being not much older than Soap. Soap's eyes quickly found Price.

"Well...here we are." Soap stated.

Price crossed his arms. "I'll show you where we are staying. I know Samson said he'll fill you in more tomorrow, but I can give you a quick synopsis when we get somewhere quiet." He rounded on his heels and began making his way across the deck. Soap stuck close as Price made his way under the deck and into the sleep corridors. The hallway was a decent width, but Soap's shoulders made the space feel like it was encompassing him; he had to bring his shoulder back to let people pass. Eventually, Price took a sharp right and through a door. Soap passed up the threshold and was met by Price's stare.

"Here we are. Two beds per room. We'll share this one."

Soap bobbed his head with content as he observed the space. It was a comfortable compartment, both beds were on opposite ends of the room and were kept separated by a navy, blue couch. He could see the sparkling water through the single porthort that was smack dead center on the steel wall. Price took a step forward, decreasing the distance between them.

"First things first, I'm going to tell you where we are heading." Price began. "This ship is taking us to the Adriatic Sea where we will dock on the coast of Croatia. From there, we will take a C-130 to a base the TTF has set up near the Alps. This cargo ship we're on now was provided by one of the divisions in the TTF; they call themselves Team Talon. They deal with transportation, shipments, retrievals...that sort of thing. Then there's Team Phantom, they're...they're still a mystery to me. They handle the more sensitive material. And the division we're apart of is referred to as Team Darkhorse. We're more hands-on and generally end up on the frontlines and in the most line of fire. Security and apprehension. Starting to sound not so bad, eh?"

Soap nodded and brought his hand up to rub the scruff on his chin. "Sure. And do you know what kind of material we'll be dealing with?"

Price crossed his arms. "Samson and I will get into that more tomorrow. But I'll give you an idea of what it is we will be encountering. Team Echo-that's the intelligence division-provided us intel on a recent drug lord threat in Cuba. The man is becoming quite the nuisance and is climbing up the top priority ladder quickly. We have to intercept an alleged shipment that is departing in ten days from the coast of Italy. Sound familiar?"

Soap took a minute to ponder over the comment, but then it hit him. "My first mission in the 22nd Regiment, in the Bering Strait."

Price nodded slowly. "Right." His hand found the greying hair on his face as he narrowed his eyes up at Soap. "Tomorrow will be an enjoyable day, I can promise that. You'll start feeling more...comfortable. Once you're briefed and Samson gives you a quick introduction, you'll immediately be put to work on the deck. I'm sure Talon wouldn't mind some extra hands with inventory. Then you'll get to meet the people we will be working alongside."

"Sounds like a productive day."

Price gestured in agreement. "Get some rest, Soap. You look like you need it." With that, Price removed himself from the room; he appeared as if he wanted to finish one more task before hitting the sack himself.

Soap blinked as his old man disappeared around the corner. Once he was out of sight, Soap dropped his bag on the floor and found a seat on the couch where he stared at the walls and ceiling. The boat rocked steadily with the calm water. His eyes caught movement by the open door and met with a taller man with brown hair and humored eyes.

"So, you're the Scotsman, yeah?" The man said. There was something about his face that just said 'jokester'.

Soap sat up and nodded. "Aye. And you?"

"I'm going to be your favorite Yankee." He replied with a charming smile.

Soap had to raise his eyebrows at him. "Is that so? I didn't know it was possible to have a favorite Yankee."

The man's blue eyes ran over the walls as he rolled an imaginary object in his mouth. "Hmm, contradictory, right? But just trust me on this. I'm an awesome pilot, better than Shorty, don't listen to anything she has to say. She is a drama queen."

"So you're going to be my favorite because you're the better pilot."

The brown haired man leaned his weight against the doorframe. "No, you're just going to like me because I'm a smart-ass."

Soap stared at him for awhile. He was starting to become confused. "What if I don't like smart-asses?"

"Then that just sounds like a personal problem." The man stated flatly before flashing another smile. "Don't mind me, I'm always the first person to talk to people. I like to test the waters to see what kind of person someone is. I think you'll fit in fine, so long as you can take a joke. But hey, I'm getting ahead of myself." He stood to his full height and brought himself into the room to stand before Soap where he put out an open palm for Soap to accept. "I've been cursed with the horrible name of Reginald. Just call me Reggie."

Soap stood and accepted his hand and shook it strongly. "Price calls me Soap. I've been stuck with Soap since selection."

"So, call you Soap?"

"Aye."

Reggie crossed his arms before his chest. "Dropped the soap in the showers?"

"That would be it."

"Hmm...that's cool. You'll probably end up with more nicknames as we go on, but for now, Soap will have to do." Reggie smiled again and began to make his way for the hallways. "Get some rest! Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

With that, Soap followed after him to shut the door behind him and returned to his bed to change into a different set of clothes. After that task was finished, Soap crashed into the bed and opened his journal to flip through the pages. He enjoyed rereading his past thoughts, and he was ready to add in some more. Eventually, Price returned, as he closed the door and met Soap's weary stare.

Price pointed a finger at him. "Up at 0600 hours. Showers. Breakfast. Then your brief. You'll have the joys of getting debriefed by Camilla Bernadette, commander of Echo, and Thorsen Lemann, commander of Darkhorse."

"Sounds reasonable." Soap mumbled as he closed his journal and set it and the pen back into the side pocket of his bag. He sighed and rolled over to face the wall. Once Price settled down, the both of them exchanged a few words and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Soap was stirred by the sound of the alarm on his wristwatch. He turned it off and rolled over to look in Price's direction. But he was already gone. He double-checked the time to see if he had overslept, but it was five minutes to 0600 hours. So he brought himself up and immediately headed for the door after cleaning up a bit. He opened the door, made his way through the threshold and bumped right into a woman who went falling down onto her rump.

"Oh damn. I'm sorry." Soap reached a hand out for her to take but was met with a glare. It was Shorty. He could finally see her face better as she looked into his soul with her deep, whiskey colored eyes.

"Jesus Christ. With that mass that big, you have to be more responsible with your surroundings." She looked at his hand and hesitated before willingly taking it.

Another woman snickered under her breath as Shorty rose. Soap's eyes found the other woman and immediately recognized her from the night before. She was taller, ash-blonde hair, and bore a wide smile as Shorty stood before the both of them. Soap was now seeing why they called her 'Shorty'.

"Your nickname makes sense now." Soap commented.

Shorty looked up at him through her fallen hair. "You're pushing it. And why do they call you 'Soap'?"

"Maybe he smells clean all of the time. Sniff him and find out." Ricochet stated with a smile.

Shorty's eye found Ricochet. "I'm not going to sniff him, that would be weird." Her stare then found Soap's face as her eyes immediately widened. "Oh my God…"

Soap looked around for a moment before peering back down at her; her head only up to his mid chest. There was a moment of silence, as everyone could sense the disbelief pouring from the sienna-skinned woman.

"Your face…"

Soap shifted. "What? The scars?"

"No…" Shorty took a step back and stuck her tongue against the inside of her cheek; she stared at him observantly before speaking. "Your fucking chin...and jawline. It's not natural."

"Haha, what?" Ricochet inquired with confusion laced through her eyes.

Soap didn't know how to react. "My...chin?"

Shorty looked over at Ricochet, and pointed in Soap's direction. "Are you seeing this?"

"I-I don't understand." Ricochet replied while narrowing her eyes at Soap. All she could see was a masculine, squared-off jawline.

"The shape. I don't get it. It's round...but square at the same time? I don't like it."

"You-you don't like my face? That kind of sounds like what you're saying." Soap claimed, feeling somewhat disheartened, but mostly bewildered.

"Is that a bad thing?" Ricochet questioned from her position as Shorty crossed her arms and looked off down the hallway. People waking up attempted to get around them. "We're blocking traffic."

"No, we're not. It's his brute of a body."

"Shorty...you're being kind of rude…"

Soap scratched his head and couldn't resist the urge to take a step backwards and into his room.

Shorty scratched her stomach and shrugged. "I'm hungry. Let's go eat something." She began to walk down the hallway but not before giving Soap once last confounded glance. Ricochet followed her and gave Soap a confused smile and a raise of the shoulders.

"Welcome to Darkhorse!"

Soap watched the two as they made their way down the narrow hall; others following short behind. He waited for their to be a break in traffic before taking a step out, this time making sure not to take someone out with his bulk. As he walked out, he spotted a familiar face, but like Ricochet, he didn't know how he recognized it. The green-eyed man met his eyes and gave him a friendly nod of the head.

"Hey man, how are you feeling." He said with a warm smile.

"Better. Have we met before?" Soap inquired as they walked along.

"Several months ago. I wouldn't say we met. More like...were acquainted through your almost fatal injury."

Soap took a moment to think over that. He put some pieces together and ran his tongue over his teeth behind closed lips. "Hmm...wait. You're the American medic that Nikolai mentioned, right?"

He confirmed with a content head bob. "Yep. That was me. The name's Shawn. I'm actually Samson's younger brother. It's promising to see you back to better health and working with us now."

Soap reached out a large hand for Shawn to accept. "Thanks, mate. I owe you."

Shawn shook his hand and shrugged. "You don't owe me anything. It's my job. Just cover my ass when I need it."

With that, everyone headed for the showers, hosed off, and afterwards, made their way towards the kitchen where breakfast was being served. After obtaining food, Soap found Price sitting next to Samson; arms crossed as always. Liking the image of familiarity, Soap joined their sides.

"Morning, Soap." Samson greeted.

He took a seat by Price. "Morning."

Eventually, what Soap didn't know, the rest of Darkhorse joined the table they all sat at, totalling 16 people. Soap's eyes ran over the faces. He recognized Reggie from the night before, then Shawn, Ricochet, and Shorty. The others he did not know, but figured he was about to get acquainted. A man with a deep scar on his cheek, warm-brown hair, and metallic, blue eyes, pulled up a chair by Samson. His eyes hanging low and his face bearing an expression of sleepiness.

Samson leaned into the table to get a better look at Soap. "Soap, this is all of Darkhorse. Now would be a good time to introduce you."

"Alright." Soap stated after setting down his orange juice.

Samson began pointing at the members and making his way around the table. "That's Ivan. Co-pilot to Shorty. We like to call him 'Hot-Shot'." Ivan raised a hand and continued to eat his meal. "Next to him is Mark, Reggie's co-pilot-"

"We call him 'Buzzkill' because he ruins the mood." Reggie chimed in to be met with an unamused stare from Mark. Reggie returned a brilliant smile.

Samson shook his head with a smirk before continuing. "That's Lydia. She's our medic who stays 24/7 at base." She nodded slowly, eyes staying on Soap. "Next to her is Delroy, he handles Darkhorse's inventory and shipments we receive from Talon. If something gets low, we go to him. We call him 'Badger' sometimes, courtesy of Reggie, because he can get snippy."

"Oui," Delroy replied and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Then James and Trent. They're our radio guys. Next to them is Shorty, whom you've already met, she pilots our helicopters."

"I'm not sure if we're off to a good start." Soap murmured and met her stare.

"Oh?" Samson looked from Soap to Shorty. His eyes immediately flashing her concern.

"He knocked my ass down in the hallway this morning." Shorty commented flatly as everyone's eyes landed onto Soap.

Soap leaned back into his chair. "You failed to mention that it was an accident and that I helped you up."

Shorty sighed. "It was an apparent accident and he helped me up."

"And then you made fun of his face." Ricochet added in.

Everyone had to raise their eyebrows, except Price who maintained his stoic expression. Soap and Shorty's eyes were locked, neither refusing to blink. Everyone fell quiet as Samson lowered his brow and waved off the awkwardness.

"Moving on...right next to her is Ricochet. She's our scout and reconnaissance sniper." She gave a quick, friendly wave. "Then Tatiana is across from Shorty. She's our mechanic. She can fix anything for you."

"Hello, hun." She waved at Soap who nodded in her direction. Russian accent lacing her words.

"Then that's Tobias. Our Danish air-traffic controller."

"Hej," Tobias greeted as he continued to eat his food.

"Then there's the notorious Reggie, he's my brother. Second youngest. Pilots our bigger planes. Watch what you say around him...he's got a mouth, that one." Samson gave him a disapproving look. Reggie could only flash a white, amused grin. "Then that's Shawn, also my brother. Youngest. He's our paramedic. A damn good one at that as well." Shawn gave a nod and a modest smile. "Then this is Trevor. Also my brother. He does fieldwork like what you, Price, Shawn, and myself do."

Without removing his eyes from his tray, Trevor raised a hand to wave at Soap. Soap leaned forward and looked at all of the faces before looking back at Samson. "Seems like a strong team."

Samson nodded. "Indeed. We'll get you briefed here shortly. Our commander, Lemann, he'll be quick about his business. He's not...in the best of health."

"Angry, German guy." Shawn commented from his seat.

"Then Bernadette...she'll take longer."

"She's just crazy." Shawn added in as he took a bite of eggs.

"Crazy is an understatement." Price stated with a hoarse voice.

Soap looked over a Price with a growing smile. "Oh, yeah?"

"She walks around with a horse whip." Trevor stated monotonically.

Soap raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the ones that jockeys use. She walks around and if she sees you doing something unproductive, you get a well-placed whip to the ass or hand." Shawn said with a low voice.

Reggie leaned forward with annoyance. "Really? She always taps the tip of my penis with it."

Shawn looked over at him swiftly. "Taps or whips?"

"Tapping implies sex," Tatiana claimed nonchalantly. Shorty shook her head as Reggie smiled.

"Taps it gently." Reggie replied.

Tatiana chuckled at him. "You're adorable. But in a dirty, inappropriate way."

"Reggie makes smart-ass, dirty humor adorable, apparently." Trevor spoke through his food.

Shorty's eyes landed on him. "You sound surprised."

Trevor shrugged and looked up after taking a bite of a biscuit. He pointed his fork at her. "Not surprised. Just an odd mixture of astonishment and disgust."

Shawn nodded in approval. "That sounds just like Reggie. Astonishing and disgusting at the same time."

Reggie just laughed and took a drink of orange juice. Soap looked over the faces as Price's attention was on his plate. He could sense that the old man was already used to the environment. It actually brought back some memories from the 22nd Regiment in between missions. Gaz was always a smart-ass making crude remarks, and Mac was one for quick-wit and sharp replies. Although everyone may had been coming off a bit strong, Soap liked it, and he could tell Price was more at ease. That alone was enough to have a sense of relief blow over him.

Suddenly, Soap felt like he was being stared at, so he looked up and found Lydia's brown eyes. Once he realized her stare, she smiled at him. Soap sat with a blank expression. He didn't understand the gesture and just went back to eating.

Once everyone had finished, Soap followed Price and Samson up to the deck to meet Camilla Bernadette and Thorsten Lemann. After hearing people's comments, Soap didn't know what to expect. He had mixed feelings. He was ready to get a move-on, but he also wasn't looking forward to being potentially whipped. After a short walk down the halls and up the stairs, Soap found himself standing on the lower level deck, metal cargo crates towering over him. Price gestured for him to pick up the pace, and he did just that by nearing their backsides.

After passing up towers of blue and red crates, they found themselves in a clearing. His eyes landed on a man and woman standing in the center. The woman was short and scrolled through the screen on her tablet with irritation. The man next to her only made her look smaller, despite the fact he was using a cane to stand. As the three of them approached, the man attempted to stand up straighter as the woman's sharp eye shot up; an eyepatch kept hidden what was remaining of her left eye. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a thin ponytail and she bore one of the most serious expressions Soap had ever seen. His eyes found a horse whip tucked under her arm. Price's eyes slowly found Soap before moving back to the commanders that they now stood in front of.

Everything was still momentarily as Camilla Bernadette browsed through the tablet. Thorsten Lemann was pale and his eyes were sunken in. He definitely looked ill, but he still was a stern looking man.

The Darkhorse commander nodded in their direction. "Gentleman."

"Sir, John MacTavish is ready to be briefed." Samson replied smoothly.

"Ja-let us begin then." He shifted his weight on his cane and motioned for Camilla to hurry up. "Bernadette. Weiterhin, bitte."

Camilla pursed her lips and kept her eye on the screen. "Patience. I'm retrieving his documentation."

Lemann nodded with irritation as he stared off into the distance.

"Finally. Here it is," she raised her head and took a step forward, closing in her distance between Soap. "MacTavish, I'm going to go through some basic information on you. Read them out loud. If anything is incorrect, speak up. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She blinked at him, looked him up and down, before returning her eye to his face. "Good. So," her fingered slid across the surface. "Name: John MacTavish. Sex: Male. Height: 194 cm. Weight: 104 kg. You're a...hulking man, aren't you?" She stared at him, adjusted her horse switch, and continued. "Date of birth: 11/08/1986. Eyes: Blue. Hair: Brown. Origin: Scotland - UK. Former S.A.S. and former captain to Task Force 141. Hmm…"

She suddenly paused and narrowed her eye at the screen. "Task Force 141 has an...odd past." She sniffed and continued after growing disinterested. "Good. We like that. Looks like you possess a lot of valuable assets, I can see why Mr. Dresden here wanted you on board." Samson nodded in her direction. Camilla made some clicking sounds with her tongue as she pondered over the information. "Also looks like you've had some bad run-ins with injuries."

"Aye."

"Hmm, three different accounted injuries. One from a car chase, the other from getting stabbed in the chest, and the other from...falling out of a four story building." She looked up at him. "You don't die, do you? You're perfect for Darkhorse." She took a step forward as he watched her closely. Rubbing her chin she observed his general appearance. "The look in your eyes though. They don't match your appearance."

He lowered his brow and to stare at her through dark lashes. "I'm sorry?"

"How many men have you killed?"

He straightened his back and let air into his lungs. "Couldn't say. War comes with a lot of death."

"That it does. But the look in your eyes-"

"Christ, Camilla. Let's hurry this Schiss up." Lemann complained as he leaned his weight into his cane. "We've got a drug lord to deal vith."

She raised her hand in the air but kept her eye on Soap. "Shush, Lemann. When briefing a soldier, you do more than just look at their experience, but who they are as well. You should know that better than anyone." She glanced at him quickly before returning her stare to Soap. "MacTavish, you seem...to have a soft side. You're very talented at what you do, but you have a soft spot. I can see it in your eyes." Her eye found Price. "Price, is this true?"

Price straightened his posture and uncrossed his arms to put his hands in his pockets. His eyes ran up the back of Soap's head. He uttered a quick grunt. "He's loyal. He'd do anything for a friend. Does that make him weak? Or a bad soldier?"

She stared at him momentarily before looking back to Soap, where she gave him a wide, interested smile. "No, not at all. I just like the look he has. Do you get attached to people fast?"

Soap's eyes remained on her face; her one visible eye glimmering with a different emotion than from before. He thought over the question, and wasn't in the mood to be quizzed, but was willing to offer an honest answer. "One might say that."

"Mm hmm, good." She smacked his chest with her whip, but it was a quick tap. "Don't lose that, boy. It'll keep you human, and we like our soldiers to stay true to their cause and ambitions." She flashed him another intrigued smile. "As a French proverb goes: 'Bon sang ne peut mentir'. Good blood will always show itself. And you have it written all over your face."

He stared down at her, not knowing how to reply, and was met with another whip tap and a wink before she rounded on her heels and waved her whip through the air. "I am done. Now get to the drug lord, shit."

Thorsten sighed and motioned for the men to step closer. Camilla joined his side and kept a watchful eye on Soap.

"Gentlemen. As you know by now, ve've been having a recent Cuban drug lord...problem," He heaved a thick cough. "Arsenio Vasquez. A real piece of work. Phantom was able to assassinate his father. Now Arsenio and his two brothers are fighting for the fame and power-" He hacked. "Which is vhat we wanted. By planting that seed of corruption in the midst of their family business, they've become distracted. But, according to Echo, Arsenio's youngest brother, Esteban, has miraculously disappeared." Lemann was now struggling to catch his breath. "Here, take this, Price." He brought his hand out and opened his palm revealing a USB. "Review everything over vith your team. I, unfortunately, need to take a seat. Guten Tag, meine Herren."

Price took the small device from the man's hands as everyone's eyes watched him as he pulled himself up, nodded in their direction and motioned for some of his men to come over to help him with his balance. Samson had to shake his head; it irked him seeing his once tall and proud commander, now limping around and panting heavily in attempts to catch his breath.

Camilla's eyes landed on Samson and Price. "Looks like you all will have to fill in the rest of your team. Good luck. I'm getting picked up as soon as we reach Croatia. Find me if you have questions." She then turned and walked away swiftly; her high heels tapping against the deck's surface.

Samson and Price faced each other, as Soap turned his head to peer over at him.

Samson's green eyes found Soap. "I have to apologize. That was a really odd brief. They usually go better than that. This Arsenio stuff is really putting quite the burden on everyone's shoulders. Then, you have Lemann dying from laryngeal cancer. I'm not going to lie, I'm stoked you two accepted the job offer. We were really starting to hit a rough patch."

"Everything happens all at once." Soap commented as Price nodded his head.

"Let's just hope good fortunate came along with us. Bad luck has a tendency to lurk around every corner when we're around." Price stated flatly as his eyes ran over the horizon.

Samson began to stroll off. "Here, let's get Darkhorse together. They should all be together in the underbellies doing inventory."

As Samson walked away, Price and Soap followed after. The three of them were able to quickly gather up the Darkhorse members and find a room to allow them some privacy. Price and Samson set up the projectile and the computer while the team members filed in. Soap stared blankly at the white light on the wall the projector casted. Lydia found a seat by Soap while Shawn and Reggie grabbed a spot across from him.

The brief was finally set up as Price and Samson waited for everyone get comfortable and for their eyes to fall onto them. Once the room fell quiet and all eyes were on them, Samson pulled his hands from his pockets and started up the slides.

"So, I'm just going to cut to the chase. It's been an awkward month. Lots of changes, lots of turmoils. Honestly, I'm not in the mood to get down to the nitty-gritties, which is why Price and I are going to give you this brief as quickly as possible." Samson's voice was different than usual, and he knew everyone watched him with curious eyes. He motioned for Price to continue.

Price's eyes looked profound and stern in the light of the projector. "We're giving you all a quick breakdown, then on the night before we depart, we'll recap." Price changed the slide, it was a family tree of the Vasquez family. "By now, you all should know about Team Phantom's success in assassinating Roberto Vasquez. He was the big wig; a nasty and corrupt wanker. With him out of the way, that leaves his three sons. Fernando, Arsenio, and Esteban. The three of them have been struggling with the balance of power and wealth, and well, neither of them are too thrilled about it. Echo has reported that Esteban is missing. Most likely dead and in a million pieces. But that's what we want: for the Vasquez family to grow distracted and attack each other while we narrow in on their supplies, sellers, and shipments."

Everyone stared at the screen with wide, observant eyes. For once, Reggie wasn't bearing a wide smile. "Which leads me into my next point," Price changed the slides to reveal a map of the Mediterranean. Samson immediately followed through by pointing a red dot onto a spot off the western coast of Latina, Italy. "Right there. That's where a new shipment is departing from. One of the Vazquez's sellers. Departs in ten days. And we're going to make sure it doesn't reach its destination."

Price looked to Samson, which Samson immediately understood. "Right," he began with his usual smooth voice. "According to intel, the shipment is carrying a pretty hefty load of cocaine and illegal arms. Our goal is to board the vessel, kill everyone on deck, and prepare it for Talon to come in to retrieve it. Successfully stopping the shipment means a large lump sum in our pockets. That also entails newer weapons, better gear, some...fancy accessories for your Iroquois, Shorty-"

"Yes…" She said under her breath with excitement.

Samson's eyes rolled over the many faces that stared at him. He pointed his finger at the screen but keep his eyes on them. "This is a big one. Arsenio and his brother will be livid. And we like playing that game. Again, we'll get into more details the night before we depart, but for now, this should fill you all in with the necessary information. Any questions?"

Immediately, a hand went up. Samson pointed to Ricochet. "Go ahead, Rico."

"Are the sellers Cuban, or are they actually from Italy?"

Price nodded. "They're Italian. The Vasquez family has had several buyers and sellers pop up throughout Europe. Maybe only five total, but the business is becoming more productive."

"Are we going to eventually converge on the sellers' locations?" Ricochet questioned as her eyes ran over the pictures on the slide.

"Eventually, yes." Price answered.

"We're testing the waters. We need to get a little sample of what exactly it is we're dealing with. If the shipment is loaded with the goods, then we know it's becoming more serious." Samson added.

Shawn's hand went up. Samson gestured for him to talk. "What if it's the wrong vessel? Like we board and end up killing several innocent sailors."

"Valid point," Samson stated. "That would be all on Echo. But this is an incredibly sensitive matter. The American government almost got involved. They still could. And if we screw this one up, consider us dead. However," he raised a finger, "that's incompetence. Something we don't tolerate. Everyone is at stake and/or at fault if shit hits the fan. Meaning we're extra careful with this. We always are, but like I mentioned before, this one is huge."

"Alright," Shawn leaned back against his chair. "Will the shipment be obvious, or…?"

"Or disguised?"

"Yeah."

Samson placed his chin in his hand. "Very disguised. These kind of shipments are going to be covered in decoys. We will probably end up prying open several boxes of something irrelevant before we actually find what we need."

"Like boxes full of pasta." Reggie chimed in. Everyone looked at him. "...Come on guys, it's fucking Italy. What else would they use as a decoy?"

"...Pizza sauce?" Shorty asked softly.

"Or Italian sausages." Reggie said in return.

Shawn looked into their faces. "Do they really send out huge vessels full of raw pasta?"

Reggie shrugged. "It's pretty much Italy's only export."

"That and apparently cocaine," Ricochet murmured.

Shawn laughed as Samson revealed a small smile on his tired face.

"Those are all very possible scenarios. As of now, though, we don't know. So, any other concerns that you all can think of?" Samson asked with a sweet voice. Everyone could only stare with bright eyes. "Alright then, you're all dismissed."

With that everyone stood to return to their daily duties for the day. Before Soap could leave the room with everyone else, Price stopped him.

"One moment, Soap."

Soap stopped in his tracks to turn and face his old man.

"Follow the rest of Darkhorse. They can show you where the supplies and inventory are being kept. They could use your help. There's only eight Talon members on the ship at the moment."

"So just lend an extra hand?" Soap asked.

Price nodded in confirmation. "Right. Dumb labor. Heavy lifting. Counting and checking the stock. Tedious bullocks. But it'd also be a good way for you to get to know the people you're going to be working alongside. The brothers are ex-Rangers. So, start feeling comfortable knowing you're around a crowd you share a lot of similarities with."

"Sounds good, Price." Soap said as he turned to leave and catch up with the rest of the group.

Below the deck where the extra shipments were being kept, members of Darkhorse performed different tasks. Soap followed Shawn as he got him familiar with the area and how they operate.

"So, pretty much, we're just double-checking all of this...shit. It's annoying, but the conversation gets fun down here." As Shawn spoke, he noticed a bunch of crumbs falling onto his head. Soap watched as the small bits landed into his hair. Immediately, Shawn felt the sensation and brushed his hair with his hand. "The hell was that?" His eyes looked up only to see Shorty and Reggie eating chips while sitting on top of the boxes.

Shawn side-stepped to avoid the incoming crumbs. "Do you two mind...not eating above my head?"

"It's ok, you moved to the side so now it's not over your head." Reggie claimed nonchalantly.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Mind helping out around here?"

Reggie looked to Shorty who was staring down at Shawn from her position. "We were just having quick snack break. Here, catch this." Shorty then threw box over the side for him to catch.

Shawn flinched at the movement but managed to grip the box as it came crashing down towards him. It was lighter than he expected. "What is this a box of?"

Her eyes were locked onto his face. "Chips."

"...Alright…" Shawn then looked to Soap before slowly opening the box up to find exactly what Shorty had said it was: chips. "So...this is a box of chips. Got it. Soap, help a man out and grab that clipboard from on top of the box over there by the door."

Soap peered over his shoulder towards where Shawn had gestured with his head. His eyes landed on the clipboard that sat atop a large cardboard box. He quickly retrieved it and looked over the inventory list.

"Box of chips, right?" Soap asked with his eyes still on the pages.

Shawn looked over at him. "Yeah."

Soap couldn't find anything on the first page, so he flipped it onto the next page where he promptly checked off the box of chips. "Says there's three more."

"They're probably up there eating from them…"

Suddenly, Soap felt something brush against his leg. He looked down and was met with the brown-eyed stare of a long-haired German Shepherd. He flinched, nearly dropped the clipboard, and took a step away. The sight of the dog terrified him and brought back unforgettable memories. Shawn noticed Soap's horrified mannerisms and was rather surprised by the reaction. The lovely, warm-brown and black dog looked up at him with smart eyes and cocked her head at him. She opened her mouth up into a happy smile as her tongue came out with a series of pants.

Then Ricochet came up. "Sorry she startled you! She means well." She joined the dog's side and scratched the top her head.

Soap relaxed a little bit as the beautiful canine looked around with content in her eyes as her owner scratched behind her ears. "What's her name?"

Ricochet looked up and met Soap's nervous eyes. "Her name is Gretel. She's great. Super loving and loyal. Just gotta love dogs."

"Eh…" Soap looked down at Gretel as she started sniffing him again.

Ricochet noticed the anxious look in his face. "Not the biggest fan of dogs?"

Soap moved his stare away from Gretel and found Ricochet's aqua eyes staring at him. "Not entirely."

"A few bad run-ins?"

Soap had to snicker at that. "Nothing but."

"That's understandable. Attack dogs are bred to scare the living shit out of someone. I'll take it you've had your fair share of those in your past?" Ricochet watched his face as Gretel continued to sniff up his leg and wag her tail.

"Let's just say I've had to snap the necks of a multitude of attack dogs." His eyes found Gretel again as she became relaxed and laid down near his foot.

"Well, she really likes you. So that makes you a good person in my book. Dogs can always sense kind souls." She said with a faint smile.

Feeling compelled, he was willing to break through his wall of fear and reach his hand down to brush against her head. She was fluffy and soft; she wagged her tail and looked up at him with honey, brown eyes. Guess she wasn't so bad. Soap looked back to Ricochet, and when he met her eyes a brilliant smile grew across her face.

Finally! Next chapter will be the shipment interception mission. Also, if anyone was wondering how I know so much about Soap's general body build, it's because I took the time to find the measurements of an assault rifle he was holding, and then compared it to the rest of his body. I used the MW3 models of him and Price because those are the most accurate representations of them. In game models are all the same because developers use a default model for all the characters and then just change out certain features. That's why when we see in-game players standing next to each other, they're all the same height. But anyways, so I took the standard length of a modern M16 and it came out to be 39.5 inches. So roughly 40 inches. I then measured it alongside Soap. Well, he came out to be about 77 inches, which is 6'4''. I honestly was surprised. I thought he was like 6'1'', 6'2'' max. So that's why when describing Soap, I make him sound like a giant, probably because he is. He's a gentle giant...for the most part.