Chapter Text
The hard lines around Price’s mouth are the first sign that something is seriously wrong. Well, that and the way he practically storms off the helo when it’s barely touched ground at base.
“Captain?” Soap asks, apprehensive, shielding his eyes against the dust kicked up around them by the rotor blades. He falls into step behind him.
Price glances at him, and for a split second Soap thinks he sees something in his expression, something he doesn’t dare name, but then it’s gone.
“Get Garrick. Nikolai’s still here, right? Get him, too. I’ll see about getting Kate on the line. Briefing in five.”
“Aye,” Soap nods. “Cap, what’s going on?”
Price turns half towards him, jaw working, levels him with a long look. When he eventually speaks, Soap can tell that he didn’t imagine the earlier flicker in his eyes.
“It’s Ghost. He’s been captured.”
–*–
Ghost had been sent on a highly classified solo mission to Siberia six days ago. Due to the delicate nature of the operation, Price hadn’t given any of the One-Four-One any more details so far. It wasn’t all that unusual, they all got sent out on solo runs every once in a while, though most weren’t quite that secretive. No one had been worried.
Apparently, everything had gone swimmingly for Ghost. He’d found the right place, the right people, and secured the information he’d been sent after. In fact, the mission had basically been over and Ghost had been waiting for exfil, holed up in a pre-arranged safehouse. That’s when everything went tits up. The location had been compromised. Ghost suddenly had to move. For some godforsaken reason his communication with command and the exfil team had been cut, leaving him blind.
“That’s about as much as we know so far,” Price says, hands on the table in the centre of the briefing room.
“How do we know they have him?” Gaz asks. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. Soap can feel his tension across the room. He’s not faring much better.
Price pulls a laptop across the table closer to himself. “We got sent a little gift,” he says, voice grim, and hits enter to open up a video file.
Soap steps closer as the motion-blurred video fills the screen. Once it settles, the camera is aimed at a figure bound to a shelf in what appears to be a warehouse of some sort. It’s every bit as clichéd as it could be. The video zooms in, and from out of frame someone reaches towards the figure to rip away the dirty fabric bag that had been covering the person’s head. Soap holds his breath, even though he knows exactly what’s coming.
Ghost’s balaclava and skull mask are still on his head, as is his helmet, though the night vision goggles have been ripped off. When the camera zooms in more, Soap can tell that Ghost’s eyes are open, though his left seems to have almost swollen shut. For a second, Ghost makes direct eye-contact with the camera, then he suddenly flinches and it zooms back out. The video doesn’t have any sound, but from the wider angle Soap can guess that the arsehole who ripped off the bag just kicked Ghost in his side. Then the video abruptly cuts off.
“We’re sure it’s him?” Nik asks from where he’s standing next to Gaz.
“Yes,” Soap says at the same time as Price. The Captain throws him a quick glance.
“Just making sure,” Nik scratches his chin. “They could have put the mask on someone else.”
“It’s Ghost,” Soap says, eyes still on the laptop screen.
Price sighs heavily. “We’re almost certain, yes.” He reaches for the laptop and hits the left arrow key a few times, rewinding the video in half-second increments until it shows most of Ghost’s body. He points to Ghost’s left thigh where his trousers had ripped enough to expose bloodied skin.
“See that? The tattoo. It matches.”
Soap drags his eyes away from the image. “What do they want? Who even are they?” He tries very hard to keep his voice level.
“Information,” Laswell says from the video screen on the wall. “The same information Lieutenant Riley was after. And at this point, we don’t know who they are. Seems to be a private organisation.”
“Shitbags waited for us to do the dirty work, then went after our guy,” Price spits, snapping the laptop shut.
“They’ll try to get it out of Ghost?” Gaz asks. “Torture him?”
Soap closes his eyes against the wave of nausea rising up his throat, breathes out slowly. He clenches his fists so hard his blunt nails bite into his skin, then stretches his fingers out again.
“Likely,” Price says, expression dark.
“The thing is,” Laswell speaks up again, “Riley doesn’t have the information. It was all encrypted. He doesn’t know what’s in it.”
“But they don’t know that,” Gaz says matter-of-factly.
Laswell nods. “Exactly, which is both good and bad news.”
Soap starts pacing around the room, unable to stand still any longer. “As long as they think Ghost knows the intel, they’ll keep him alive. But if he never actually gives them anything they—”
“Only have more reason to torture him harder to get him to talk, yes,” Price finishes the sentence for him.
“How long have they had him for?” Soap asks, still pacing.
“We can’t be sure, but we lost contact about fifteen hours ago. The video came in,” Price glances at the time, “ninety minutes ago.”
Soap nods. “So what’s the plan?”
“They’ll likely expect a bigger party, so we’ll go in small, quiet. MacTavish, Garrick, you’ll be with me. We fly out in an hour. Nikolai, I’d like to have you on standby.”
Nik nods. “No problem, Captain.”
“I tried to get a hold of Colonel Vargas and his team but they’re in the Amazon jungle right now. No dice,” Laswell says. “But…” She hesitates.
“Kate, what is it?”
“Forget it. Probably won’t work anyway.”
Price huffs. “Kate, if it can help us get Riley back in one piece…”
Laswell crosses her arms on the screen, sits back against her desk. “There are private operators stationed not far from Kolpashevo, by the Ob river. It’s comparatively close to Riley’s last known location.”
“Comparatively close for Siberia, I’m guessing?” Gaz asks.
“About three hours out by helicopter, yes.”
“They got nothing to do with the mission?” Nik looks sceptical.
Laswell shakes her head. “No, and I have the means to get in contact. Could possibly recruit them as help.”
“Where’s the catch, Kate?”
Laswell uncrosses her arms and leans back. “You won’t like this. I don’t either, but it could help.”
“Spit it out, Laswell,” Soap snaps impatiently. Price shoots him a stern look, but lets it slide.
“They’re KorTac.”
Price snorts. “Fuck, no. Thanks, but no thanks. We’ll manage.”
Laswell lifts her hands placatingly. “Told you, you won’t like it. I’m just saying, the offer stands. No guarantee they’d even accept.”
“Acknowledged.” Price turns towards Soap and Gaz. “All right, we’re just losing time. It’s a long flight, we discuss the rest on the way. Get packing boys, remember it’s gonna get real frosty out there. Meet you out at the helo at 1900. We’ve got a ghost to catch.”
–*–
Soap packs on autopilot. He’s done half an hour before they’re supposed to regroup, sits on his bed and stares unseeingly at the wall. His mind keeps replaying the few seconds of the Proof of Life video again and again. He’d known it was Ghost as soon as he’d seen his eyes, maybe even before that. He swears he could recognise the big bastard everywhere. But seeing him like this…
Soap knows it’s a risk they all signed up for. Every mission brings the possibility of capture, of death, of seeing the mate you’d shot the shit with over ORPs get blown to bits next to you a few hours later.
Still, it didn’t prepare him for seeing Ghost like that. Silent, hulking shadow of a man that he was. Is. Soap is used to watching Ghost take down enemy soldiers and terrorists left and right like it’s a walk in the park, cracking a deadpan joke over the comms as he does so. Putting an annoyed but undoubtedly affectionate smile on Soap’s face. No, something must have gone seriously wrong. Soap is one hundred percent certain. Ghost is careful to a fault, he wouldn’t let himself get captured just like that.
Soap rips himself from his own dark thoughts. He gets up from the bed, grabs his duffel and marches out of the building towards their agreed meeting point.
–*–
The flight is long and in and of itself uneventful. Laswell had pulled up satellite imagery of the target area and highlighted possible locations where Ghost could be held. Clues from the Proof of Life told them that Ghost was most likely in a warehouse, overground, going by the diffused light coming from a small window just so visible in the shot. Luckily, the Siberian taiga in this area didn’t lend itself to overly many human structures and so the possible locations were few and far between. Now they only had to figure out where exactly Ghost was. And hope they didn’t move him before they got there. Or worse.
“Listen up, we’re closing in on the first location.” Price zooms in on a small cluster of buildings on the satellite map. “No real vantage point from above so we’re all going in low. I don’t think I need to tell you that this is a stealth mission. There shouldn’t be many people around. The location seems to be abandoned, so no workers. Remember, we’re most likely looking for a cold storage warehouse.”
“Isn’t all storage in Siberia cold storage?” Gaz mutters under his breath.
Any other day Soap would have laughed.
Price ignores him. “Comms on line six.”
Soap reaches up to switch to the right frequency and adjust his ear piece. He stares out of the window at the barren landscape. Splotches of green, white and brown, only cut through by the snaking river Ob and a number of lakes.
“You all right, son?” Price regards Soap with a keen look. It’s no secret that Soap is closest to Ghost by a mile. Everyone at base knows it, so does Price.
Soap nods curtly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Keep sharp.”
Laswell’s voice crackles to life. “You’re about five clicks out from the dropoff point. Get ready.”
Soap takes a minute to check over his suppressed X12 before sliding it back into his thigh holster. He takes a deep, measured breath.
Fucking Christ, he sure hopes they find Ghost quickly.
–*–
“Building in the west is clear.” Soap releases the button on his comm.
“Roger that,” Gaz’ voice comes a moment later.
Soap waits a second before reaching for his comm again. “Captain, how copy?”
“Rog. West is clear,” Price copies. “South is clear as well, completely empty.”
“Fucken shite,” Soap curses under his breath and moves on to the next building, back to the wall. He doesn’t have a lot of hope for the location. It seems to be a long-abandoned fish farm, though the smell still lingers. None of the buildings look even close to what they saw in the video and there’s not a soul around and doesn’t seem to have been in a long time.
They clear the rest of the buildings and RV back on the side of the first.
“No luck,” Price says.
“Nothing.” Gaz scrubs a hand over his face, rubs at his eyes.
At this point it’s been over twenty-five hours since they lost contact with Ghost.
Soap releases a long string of colourful curses and then, because it’s right there, kicks an old plastic container as hard as he can. It flies off uselessly into the nothingness surrounding them.
“Sergeant,” Price warns. “Calm down. We need you in top shape.”
Soap grits his teeth and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, sir.”
Price nods and reaches for his comm, switching frequency. “Kate? First location’s a bust. Heading back out now.”
Back on the helo Soap grabs one of the laptops and pulls up the satellite imagery. He zooms in as close as he can to their next possible location and tries, through sheer force of will, to discern anything from the grainy images. Obviously, it’s almost entirely pointless, he can’t possibly tell from the outside if that’s where Ghost is being held, but it gives him something to do.
“Got a good feeling about this next one,” Soap says with more confidence than he actually feels. Like speaking the words out loud will somehow make them true.
“Looks a lot more lively than the last place at least.” Price agrees. “More activity.”
And it turns out to be true. The part about the place being more active at least. They make it to the complex of buildings, some sort of factory, without much difficulty; but once there it turns out the place is actively being run and workers are milling about everywhere.
“How the fuck are we supposed to get a better look inside if we can’t even get close?” Gaz asks, voice low. But Soap is barely listening.
“Got an idea,” he says and points towards a nearby transporter. “See that? In the back. Factory overalls. I’ll sneak close, grab one when the worker’s gone and then infiltrate.”
“You’re mad! You’ll get caught.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine, Gaz. Just you wait. If someone actually pays me any mind I’ll pretend to be the new guy.”
“Right.” Gaz doesn’t sound convinced. “What if they try to talk to you?”
“I’ll answer.”
“You speak Russian?”
Soap shrugs. “Not well, but it’ll do. Come on, cover me.”
Gaz reaches for his comm. “Cap, Soap wants to infiltrate. Do you copy?”
“Copy,” Price’s voice crackles through Soap’s earpiece. “You sure about this, sergeant?”
“Affirmative. I can pull it off.”
“Don’t mess this up, MacTavish. Remember, no civilian casualties. I’ll cover you from up here.”
Soap sets his jaw. “Roger that.”
Everything goes as planned. Soap gets his hands on one set of overalls and a matching hardhat. He quickly pulls on the disguise and then walks into the factory as inconspicuous as possible while concealing a handgun.
“That’s looking more like it,” he whispers once inside, taking in his surroundings. It’s promising, but this first building is too bright and open to be the place they saw in the video. So Soap continues on. He checks two more buildings that turn out to be little more than shacks, before moving on to the next.
And that’s where everything goes wrong.
–*–
“MacTavish!” Price roars as soon as Soap is back in the helo and they’ve taken off. “Count yourself lucky we’re low in numbers as it is because otherwise I’d have half a mind to leave your arse stranded in the fucking taiga somewhere! What the hell was that?! You almost shot a civilian point-blank in front of witnesses!”
“But I didn’t, sir.”
Price turns beet-red and gets right up in Soap’s face. “Don’t you dare talk back to me like this. You almost fucked us all. What’s gotten into you, sergeant?”
Soap grinds his teeth together, looks at a point on the helo wall instead of at Price.
“Listen, I get that this is a stressful situation, even more so than usual given the circumstances.”
Soap huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. The circumstances, he mouths.
“What’s that, sergeant?”
Soap shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Price crosses his arms. “Speak your mind.”
“I’d rather not.”
Price’s eyes narrow slightly and he tilts his head. “I get the feeling you think we’re not taking this situation seriously enough.”
“Well, maybe because you fucken aren’t!” Soap explodes. “Ghost has been captured by an unknown organisation. We haven’t had any fuckin’ contact in—what?—almost thirty hours at this point! We don’t even know if he’s still fuckin’ alive!” Soap buries his head into his hands, presses his knuckles into his eye sockets until he sees nothing but flashing shapes. Everything’s a fucking nightmare.
“MacTavish?” Price asks eventually, his voice is calm, almost gentle. It’s enough of a change to make Soap look up. “I’m only going to ask you this once. Think about it before you answer me. Are you compromised?”
Soap looks at Price for a long moment, jaw muscles twitching. He knows exactly what the captain is implying, and what he’s offering.
Soap looks at him, his mind already made up, and then he flat-out lies to his face.
“No, sir.”