Snow drenched and spattered with crimson blood crunched beneath Simon's boots as he gazed down at a group of shivering, terrified children.
He and Price had made great work of the place. About 20 or so soldiers laid dead all throughout the encampment, some of them face down in the snow as they'd been shot during desperate attempts to flee. He hadn't come out completely unscathed, though, with the sleeves of his right arm slightly ripped and bleeding, and his body aching with a soreness he'd earned from being a little too close to a grenade blast inside the building.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching behind him and turned to see Price coming up with his head bent, surveying the children that sat huddled before their feet. It had been a struggle to communicate with them. None of them spoke any English. They seemed terrified of Simon, gasping and clutching at each other any time he looked their way, but responded a bit more warmly to Price. The Captain had been overjoyed at the discovery of the children. He'd come over the radio with a tone of elation in his voice despite the absolute slaughter they had just caused - "I found the kids, Ghost. Come watch them while I take a look around the building."
And so, Simon did as he was told, somewhat awkwardly joining the huddle of small children that shrank away from like terrified kittens trapped in a cage. He'd held up his hands in a way to express that he was friendly, and meant no harm - but they all just stared at him as if he was a walking Halloween decoration. He'd searched all of his pockets in case he may have left any sweets behind, in vain. With no other way to win their trust, he'd gathered with them all around an area to the back of the building free of deceased soldiers, perching himself atop a plastic crate as he waited for Soap and Gaz's arrival to retrieve the kids.
Simon had never babysat before in his life. He wasn't much of a family-man, after all. But he hated the way their wide, innocent eyes constantly looked him up and down, just waiting for him to attack. Any time he moved or readjusted his position, their heads would snap up to make sure he wasn't about to lunge forward. He had no idea what they'd been through since being kidnapped from their quaint little homes and loving families - but you could see it written upon their fearful little faces.
He was lost in thought, distracted by the images he'd been greeted with when he and Price had infiltrated the building. They'd stormed in, locked and loaded, and were immediately met with those terrified gazes. He saw boys and girls alike, the eldest of them all surely no older than fourteen years old, working within the dirty and decrepit warehouse. Some kids stood upon plastic crates at the edges of the tables, bent over heaps of weaponry, working with dangerous tools without safety equipment. Even Simon had been disturbed, remembering a time he'd witnessed an unskilled comrade saw off a finger due to working without a safety guard, just like these children were.
He was snapped out of his reverie when one of the children let out a sharp gasp in front of him. His head snapped up, following the child's eyes down the path. There were Soap and Gaz, and what appeared to be one of the Russian villagers.
As if they hadn't been terrified only seconds before, the small group of children leapt up from the snow and dashed over to the man. They quickly surrounded him, jumping up and down, squealing and squabbling, tugging at his pants legs and nearly bringing him to the ground.
Simon stood up from his crate and approached slowly. Soap and Gaz wore the same expressions, glad to see they had all accomplished something besides absolute bloodshed for once.
Once he came close enough, Ghost opened his mouth to speak, being abruptly cut off by an insistent voice booming over their radios -
"Target engaged! Captured!"
There was only enough time for a single look to pass between all three of them before they burst into action. Ghost gripped the rifle across his chest and began sprinting to the other side of the building, Soap and Gaz following quickly behind him, dodging the bodies of the dead men that littered the ground. Their hearts raced as they could taste the end of this mission that had been ongoing for months now.
It took a while before they found themselves at the already-opened entrance to the compound. The place looked abandoned, all the lights turned off and not a soul to be found. No bodies, no signs of battle. They entered the building with a looming sense that something was off, each of them switching on their headlamps to illuminate the darkness. Price reached up to a light switch in the first room, flicking it up and down to no avail. He turned to look behind him, sharing an odd look with the team.
"Wonder what took them so long if no one's fuckin' here," Ghost growled, disdain dripping from his voice.
"Easy now, L.T.," Soap murmured behind him, knowing all too well that Simon was a bomb itching to be set off.
Simon shot him a glare, even though he knew Soap didn't deserve it.
Price waved his hand for the men to follow. Ghost followed behind him, followed by Soap, and then followed by Gaz. They held their weapons at the ready as they passed by each darkened room in the building, until they came upon an ominous light filtering in at the end of a long hallway.
With some pep in their steps, the men moved forward. When they reached the doorway, Price peaked around and took in the scene before quickly making his way in.
Ghost followed behind him. He looked around the warehouse room, lit only by a construction lamp sat on top of a desk at the other end. Before the desk, he saw Drake crouched to the ground.
Maghrebi lay at his feet, bound and tied on his stomach with his hands behind his back. His fearful brown eyes danced between the men of the group, panting and breathing heavily in fear.
"Good shit," Soap muttered from behind Ghost as they drew closer.
"Good shit, indeed," Price commented, lowering his weapon, his other hand raising up to speak into the radio. "We got him, Las,"
Laswell's response was instant. "Good. Get wrapped up there and get ready to bring him back to base. I want him in US territory ASAP."
Ghost didn't speak a word. He looked around the room, something missing.
His eyesight was blurring as he struggled to keep the anger inside.
He finally spat out the words, partially enraged that no one had asked yet.
"Where is Y/N?"
Drake's cold blue eyes flickered upwards, meeting Ghost's for just a second before moving to Price. "I don't know. We split up. I thought she'd come running when I gave the signal."
Simon saw Johnny's head turn to look at him with an eyebrow raised before turning back to Drake. "What in the fuck did ya split up for?"
"Less chance of someone taking off out the back," Drake spat back, immediately defensive.
Soap and Ghost shared another dangerous look. Before either of them could respond, Price quickly spoke up.
"Go look for her. Gaz and I are staying here." He turned and met Simon's intense gaze, suspicion evident in his eyes. "Clue Laswell in on the situation, would ya."
Ghost gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching beneath the fabric of his mask. Images of his hands wrapped around the dipshit's neck wafted around in his head.
He felt Soap's hand clap onto his back. "Come on, L.T."
His eyes bored into Drake's face for another moment before he turned, briskly making his way for the exit. The room was quiet behind him, except Soap's hurried footsteps following him out the door. He could feel Price watching them leave.
That didn't stop the rage from bubbling up inside as he thought back to every single blatant warning he'd already given them.
Once they turned the corner and back into the darkened hallway, Soap spoke to him in a hushed whisper. But Ghost didn't slow his furious steps, nor did he listen.
"Don't get all worked up, mate," Soap said.
Simon kept walking, reaching up to turn the night vision on.
"She's here somewhere. Probably tripped and knocked her wire out, or something. Didn't hear the comm."
The next set of compound doors slammed open as Simon burst through them, startling Soap as the sound echoed through the building.
Soap chittered on behind him like a stupid parrot. "She could be on her way here right now-"
"Shut the FUCK UP!"
Soap stopped in his tracks when the Lieutenant whipped around, backing him up to the wall and jamming his finger into Soap's chest.
"I told you and the Captain multiple fucking times something's off with that twat and neither of you fucking. Listened." There was a fire in his eyes that hadn't been seen in a long time.
Soap stared back at him like a scolded puppy.
He didn't have time for this. He turned around once again, finally remembering that Price had asked him to let Laswell in on the situation.
"Bravo-7 to Watcher," he spoke into his receiver. "I need to have a word." He continued making his way through the building, aggressively slamming his way into one of the bedraggled, abandoned office rooms.
"How copy, Seven?"
He glanced about the room as he spoke, seeing papers and sticky notes scattered about the floor, an overturned chair, and an empty metal desk. "Y/N's disappeared. Searching for her now." He paused as he found nothing of interest, turning to head into the next room and nearly trampling right over a quieted Soap. "I've got some opinions on the ordeal."
"What are you thinking?"
Simon swept his eyes over the next darkened room which was empty except for a tool shelf with nothing on it. "Our new Sergeant. Colin Drake."
"I heard you weren't a fan of him."
"Now you should be able to see why. He and Y/N go off together, now she's disappeared. He deviated from original orders to stick together, for fuck's sake." He took another breath, seeing that Soap had already scoured the next room and was moving onto the last one. "Something ain't right here."
"Don't jump to conclusions. Keep your cool. If you can't find her anywhere in that building - start asking questions. Bravo-6 is doing his own research as well."
Ghost's jaw began working again, dissatisfied with her answer. He'd been asking questions for months now.
And now she'd disappeared.
Soap moved from the last room, shaking his head.
"We'll check outside," Ghost muttered, feeling slightly bad for the way he'd yelled at him earlier, knowing that Johnny cared for her too.
Switching their night visions off as they stepped outside, their eyes worked to readjust to the sunlight in the chilly air. Simon looked to Soap, seeing an increasingly worried expression written on his face. It was clear his spirits were falling, knowing it was unlikely she was just idling outside the warehouse somewhere.
"You go around that side, I'll go around this one. Meet at the back. Scan the treeline."
Soap nodded with pursed lips, and turned to make his way around the side of the building.
Simon turned as well, his feet kicking against empty beer cans and other worthless trash littered around the facility. Fucking scumbags, he thought to himself as he nearly tripped over a tire that was hidden beneath a small pile of snow. His eyes scanned the trees as he walked briskly by them, hoping to catch a glimpse of her hair or the fabric of her winter coat.
His heart dropped lower and lower with each and every step, until he rounded the corner to find Soap shaking his head.
A pit began to form deep in his gut.
The two men hurried back inside, back to the room with Price, Gaz, the terrorist, and the scumbag.
Price turned his head to see them entering. He saw their body language, the way they walked briskly inside. Could feel the rage seeping from Ghost, the concern welling from Soap.
Simon approached quickly, his heavy footsteps showing he was seeking answers. "Well?" he asked, his arms opening into a cynical shrug. "Have we gotten any answers from this fucking nitwit?"
Drake rolled his eyes, seemingly unperturbed. Soap bristled behind Ghost, noticing his lack of concern.
"Calm yourself, Ghost." Price said to Simon sternly. "We're calling in some extra hands for the search." He began shifting his weight from one foot to the other, chewing his lip. Simon saw his eyes flicker up to meet his, and he sensed the Captain was about to break some news that he wouldn't like. Price gestured with his head towards the direction of the exit. "Come on."
Simon followed behind him, letting the warehouse doors slam shut when they entered the hallway. Ghost could barely see his face by the small light coming in through the small windows of the door.
He took a deep breath, heaving a sigh. "Simon," he began. "We need to get Maghrebi back. Fast. I need you with me. We've got a team coming to search."
Ghost had already begun shaking his head halfway through Price's sentence. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," he growled, his eyes widening beneath the mask as he scowled at the Captain.
"L.T., I know that's not what you want to hear. It's the nature of our work. Can't be going soft."
"Sir," Simon began to respond, gritting his teeth as he struggled to keep his voice to an acceptable level. "This isn't 'going soft', this is abandoning a comrade."
"We aren't abandoning her. Search crew will come in and find what they can. It's their specialty, they'll do a better job than we can."
"Yeah? When? Twelve fucking hours from now?" Ghost spat.
"About four."
"Sir - I'm not fucking leaving until I figure out what's happened here."
"I need you for the interrogation, Simon. I know you're a stubborn arsehole but don't forget, Maghrebi is our number one priority at the moment. If you aren't on that plane with me hauling his ass back to the United States, you'll be seen as abandoning your duties as Lieutenant." He pursed his lips for a moment. "I don't know what that will mean for you when you get back there."
Ghost shook his head again, not caring for a moment how the ops team would see it. "If we wait four hours for a search and rescue, she ain't coming back. Ever." He paused. "I'm sure of it."
Price gave him that look that he'd seen countless times before. Lips pursed, eyebrows raised. Understanding, but stern. "And what if you turn up with nothing?"
A look flashed over Simon's eyes. He knew the implications of that sentence. He didn't care. He wasn't going to let this go.
"I'm not leaving until I have some answers. Find someone else for the interrogation or wait until I get back." He began to turn away from the Captain, before stopping himself and turning back around. "And keep your eyes on that fucker until we find Y/N. That should be obvious. Seems you might need the reminder."
The insult hung caustically in the air before he turned away, leaving the Captain to deal with Maghrebi on his own.