Mustached Man

Five years is a long time. Five years of pain. Five years of mental and physical torture. Five years wrongfully accused. Things that would break weaker men. But their was a reason that he was considered one of the best. They could torture him for a hundred years and they'd never get him to rat out the last surviving member of his old team, Soap.

Five hours is a long time. A long time to be stuck behind a desk instead of on the frontlines, fighting the bad guys. At least five hours was a long time for 'Soap' MacTavish. As soon as his team had returned from Russia he'd been placed behind a desk to 'work' off his 'mistake'. He had a feeling that he was going to be working off this mistake for the rest of his life. Unlike the official members of Shepherd's staff, he wasn't exceptionally good with computers. Sure, he stopped a nuclear missile from hitting the East Coast. But, ask him to make a spread sheet and it'd take him all week. Also, the fact that he wasn't a thin-lanky-computer wizard meant that all women in a forty foot square radius of his cubicle were attracted to him like fly paper. As he was putting the final touches on his report, his phone rang.

Flipping the phone open, he said "MacTavish speaking. May I ask who this is?"

"Soap," came a weak voice, partially covered by static the other the sound of thick Russian voices.

"Who is this? How do you know me?" asked the Captain, worried about a possible breach in security.

"So you don't remember me, how sad. I know you're tracing this call. How 'bout you come down and visit some time?" asked the Voice, then before MacTavish could answer the line went dead.

"What the 'ell was that about?" he thought to himself.

Ghost was enjoying his new promotion. Seeing as MacTavish was stuck behind a desk, Ghost was now Captain, albeit unofficially. Given Shepherd had the Taskforce under base arrest meant that he really didn't have anything to do. Presently, he found himself in the kitchen watching over the 'maid', who was actually the receptionist from the prison only wearing a maid suit that Roach had purchased for his girlfriend. She was scrubbing the yellowed linoleum on her hands and knees, which left Ghost with an interesting view.

"Mmm… I like that view." he muttered to himself.

Noticing him eyeballing her, she said "Are you looking at my ass?"

"And what if I am?" he asked, with a slight grin.

Slowly, she crawled up to him, and began rubbing his thigh.

"You like that?" she purred.

"Maybe…" he said, trying to remain professional.

"Then you're going to love this." she said, unzipping his pants.

Finally, the clock struck noon and Shepherd's staff were entitled to their thirty minute break. While the rest of the staff drove out of base to get fast food, MacTavish was forced to walk. He never had a reason to buy a car given he would never have time to drive the stupid thing. So, instead he decided to walk to the 141's small kitchen to get a cup of coffee and maybe steal one of Roach's sandwiches. The idiot never realized it was his Captain that stole his food so he always blamed Meat, MacTavish chuckled to himself as he remembered the good old days. Opening the door to the kitchen he found himself looking at Ghost, who was handcuffed to pillar in the middle of the room with his pants around his ankles.

"What the 'ell happened to you?" asked MacTavish.

"The maid stole my 'cuffs outta my pocket! Then she stole the keys!" growled Ghost.

"Oh, sorry to hear that." said MacTavish, grabbing his cup and a roast beef sandwich he started for the door.

"Don't leave me here!" shrieked Ghost, "You bloody wanker!"

But the last part of his threat was muffled by the sound of the kitchen door closing.

"Bollocks." muttered Ghost.

As he said this the maid came out of her hiding place inside the broom closet.

"Hello, Ghosty. Still tied up I see." she said with a smirk.

"Damn you woman!" he screamed, flailing wildly at her. Eventually, he tired himself out and sat still on the floor. Still berating himself for being beat by a woman.

"Aw, don't be so sad, Ghosty." she purred, pulling up his mask a bit. Noticing the muscles in his neck tense up she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just…I don't like people to see me without the mask.." he said, suddenly sounding more like a awkward teenager then a twenty-something military man.

Undeterred she pulled the mask up until his cheek was exposed, quickly she gave him a peck on the cheek and said "For your troubles." And then she left.

"W-what the hell just happened?" asked Ghost, still trying to comprehend the events that had taken place.

MacTavish returned to his cubicle. Taking a bite of his stolen sandwich he began taking notes on who could have possibly called him. It was a short list, only a few people knew of his nickname. And even fewer of them had any reason to be in Russia, and those who did were dead. He left the list on his desk and got back to work, not eager for Shepherd to come in and yell at him for 'slacking' off on the job.

John Price was no fool. Soap may not know who had sent him the cryptic message but he knew the man's methods. He wasn't one to be easily deterred, and Price needed his help. One man versus a gulag full of armed Russians were pitiful odds even by Price's standards. But with Soap by his side, he could take on the whole damn world if he had to.

Yes, I am that much of an asshole to devote an entire chapter to the 141 instead of explaining what's happening to Allen. As for Price, you knew he had to show up sometime and now seemed like the best time! As always read and review!