Chapter Text
The 141 were lazily lounging in Price’s apartment, Gaz quietly munching on an apple while Ghost silently and methodically cleaned his vast arrangement of blades on dirty rag. “Right. Everyone finally here?” Price barked, a fat cigar burning slowly between his lips as he swaggered in from the adjacent room where he had just spent the last 15 minutes talking behind closed doors, tucking one of his numerous burner phones into the back pocket of his faded denim jeans. He made a point to look directly at Soap, raising a brow – apparently he was still pissed about his morning absence. “Took the f*ckin’ dog for a walk. Was bored.” Was all Soap had said when Price confronted him on his whereabouts when they finally pulled back into the complex car park, Ghost silent and stoic as ever having sworn their stakeout of your house to secrecy for now.
“New job for us Captain?” Soap piped up eagerly from where he had been lying haphazardly across the plush leather couch, somewhat in a better mood than he had been a few hours earlier, tossing back the last of his whiskey shot before slamming the little glass on the side table. He had started day drinking around lunchtime; a bad habit he hadn’t done in a while but he needed something, anything, to distract his mind from wandering in endless loops and circles about you. It was a strange thing; when in your company all the endless threads of thought and noise in his mind seemed to quiet down but came back all consuming, so overwhelmingly in full force, the moment you were out of sight. “What’s wrong with him? He’s always in trouble – unable to concentrate, unable to focus on any simple task I give him. I’m sick of it. Fix him, please.” His mother had cried openly to their doctor after he had failed a school examination once again. The doctor smiled sympathetically at his mother before turning a stern brow his direction. “He has what we call Attention-deficient/hyperactivity disorder or ADHD for short.” “So he’ll always be this way?” His mother started crying harder. “I knew having him was a mistake.”
It was definitely time to put the bottle down when his mother came to mind.
“Just got some real good intel from Rudy and Alejandro, apparently our good friend Graves is sending a large shipment of god knows what offshore to a safe house and he’s trying to strike a deal with them to assist in the movement of his goods. He’s sending a few of his goons to Rudy’s bar tonight to discuss plans further.” Price smirked evidently pleased with himself, before taking a long drag of his acrid cigar and blowing it out in a steady stream.
“What, doesn’t Graves know that Rudy and Alejandro work with us? Is he f*ckin’ stupid?” Gaz snorted incredulously.
“Evidently so.” Ghost chimed in, always quick to pipe up with his usual dry humour.
“So what’s the plan?” Soap jumped in among the banter, eager for something, anything, to take his mind off you and the insatiable desire to keep drinking himself into a stupor. A little violence seemed like a healthy distraction. Besides, his trigger finger was itching to feel his beautiful M1911 in action again. She hadn’t seen much action in nearly a week since their last mission went bust and he was getting desperate to feel her curves jumping beneath his hand.
“Well since we don’t know what Graves is up to yet and we certainly don’t want him and his shadows to know we are working with Alejandro and Rudy, we are just going to stake out Rudy’s bar tonight. Keep a sharp ear and eye out for anyone out of place. Rudy and Alejandro never do a deal without taking a recording of the meeting but Graves won’t know that so even if we don’t get much we’ll get a copy of that. We make moves once we know for sure what Graves is up to. Depending on what the goods are, it could be a nice paycheck for us and our friends in office will be pleased to have less illegal activity on the streets.” Price paused and took another lengthy drag before continuing, “Of course you gents know this means blending in with the youth, no visible weapons and no masks – sorry Simon.”
“Blending in with the youth? You’d need a time machine for that Price.” Gaz managed to choke out between huffs of laughter. “Yeah, Price you may need to sit this one out.” Ghost said dry as a cracker but his eyes were creased, the only tell-tale sign he was actually cracking a joke given his face was always hidden behind a mask of some sort.
“Ha ha. Very funny. Now everyone f*ck off.”
It was late into the evening when Ghost, Soap, Gaz and Price were parked up across the street from Rudy’s bar; briefly touching on what the plan was once again before springing into action. Rudy’s bar was one of the few places Soap hadn’t frequented much as he preferred his drinks to be served by the working girls down at the Boulevard Strip or in the privacy of his apartment, so he was pleasantly surprised to see just how packed it was. Throngs of men and women all dressed up for a night out milled about outside, some snapping pictures together while others stumbled out the entrance, clearly wasted. Good to know Rudy’s legitimate business was booming. “You boys ready to party?” He grinned wickedly, taking secret delight in Simon’s discomfort at having his face fully exposed. Gaz had removed his sling and kept his arm tucked by his side so as not to draw unwanted attention to his injury and Price was dressed casually in his loose denim jeans and a plain black shirt, his outfit a poor distraction from his salt and pepper moustache and beard.
Stepping through the entrance, he was immediately shoulder to shoulder with crowds of men, women and everything in between. The air was so thick he could almost taste every mouthful and all he could smell was fruity alcohol and half burned stale cigarettes. Gently reaching up to touch the small earpiece slotted in his left ear he winced as it crackled to life, nodding at the rest of the 141 as he split off and dug his way further into the crowd. Keen eyes scanned the vast room, eyeing up the DJ booth, sweeping across the bar and over the dance floor. The atmosphere in Rudy’s bar was sultry with deep red and blue strobe lights flashing sporadically across the darkened dance floor, highlighting a couple in the back ferociously making out, a group of guys hanging back sipping on frothy beer leering at a group of girls grinding on each other clearly lost in the bass heavy music. He kept sweeping his gaze around the room, not finding anything noteworthy when Ghost’s rumbling voice fizzed loudly in his earpiece, “Johnny, on the dance floor, to your right.”
Glancing up keenly, he felt his gut twist painfully and his heart launch into the base of his throat; there you were, dressed up in all black leather and lace, long legs and soft thighs on display as you rolled your hips back and forth to the music, hands running over your torso and tangling up into your hair. Holy f*ck. Mission forgotten entirely, all he could do was watch you dance and sway to the music, completely entranced, cherry red lips framing a brilliant smile as you leaned in to your friends and shouted something inaudible. He felt somewhat cheated that you had been so shy to wear the dress he chose out when seeing what little you were wearing tonight but he wasn’t one to hold grudges, especially when you were putting on a show like this. Eye twitching, he watched as you swaggered over to the bar alone and away from your friends and propped yourself into a bar stool, crossing your legs before engaging in conversation with the man next to you. Red, he was starting to see red. He kept watching, unable to tear his gaze away even when his comms fizzled to life with musings from Price and Gaz. The sandy haired man had given you a drink and not so subtly moved his hand onto your exposed lower back was leaning in to whisper in your ear and you looked… uncomfortable?
Pushing his way towards the bar, he was a man on a new mission and nothing would get in his way. He couldn’t stand by in good conscience and watch another man try and sleaze his way into your rather short leather skirt; didn’t you know you were his and only his? “Ugh get away from me!” He heard your voice singing out to him clear as day, your hands pushing past the man who had just given you a drink. Good girl. “Soap, what the f*ck is going on. You’re not at your post. Have you got something?” Price’s aggravated voice shouted into his earpiece and he paused momentarily only to see your back disappear out one of the side entrances and the sandy-haired man disappear into the crowd close behind. “Possibly have a lead, side entrance by the bar. I’m following up.” He lied; this was far more important. f*ck he hated how crowded it was. Pushing people roughly out the way he barreled through the side door he had watched you disappear out of, the cool night air hitting him straight in the chest as he stepped out and realized he was tucked down one of the side alleyways that ran between Rudy’s bar and the next establishment.
“Please stop… you’re hurting me.” Your voice cried out nearby; you were distressed.
“I said no sounds you f*cking bitch.” He had tunnel vision, only seeing and feeling red.
He was met with the worst sight he could possibly stumble across; there you were pressed roughly against the brick wall, skirt bunched up around your thighs and shirt pulled roughly to the side partially exposing part of your left breast, mascara tracks running down your cheeks with that pretty cherry red lipstick smudged against your cheek as you cried out in pain. The cause of your pain was the same sandy-haired man who had been hovering by you in the bar, caging you in to the wall with meaty hands grabbing fistfuls of whatever skin he could touch. “Soap!” A chorus of shouts from Gaz, Price and Ghost came from somewhere behind him as they burst out the side door, but it was too late. Hands wrapping around his neck, Soap ripped the man away from you before slamming his head with unmatched force straight into the side of the building, but not before noticing your limp body heading towards the ground.
“Get her out of here now. This f*cker is mine.” He growled viciously, yanking his M1911 out the front of his pants and placing the cool barrel against the man’s bleeding temple. He was beyond feral at this point; a rabid animal frothing at the mouth for the kill. Price’s voice managed to cut through the ringing in his ears; “I’ve got her.” You were safe. Chest rolling and heaving, spit slick against his lips and the whites of his eyes glinting in the dim streetlight, he stuffed his gun back into the front of his pants but not before straddling the groaning, semi-conscious man and landing a solid punch to his jaw. A sickeningly loud crunch sent shivers up his spine as his fist connected over and over with the man’s mangled jaw, pulverizing his skull till brain matter and teeth were all that remained of his face. Soap was a dedicated solider who would do whatever it took to complete a mission; his mission the minute he had seen you dancing was to ensure you walked out of here unharmed and he had failed you. He should’ve been quicker.
“Hey, hey, Johnny. You’re not going to kill him twice. f*cker’s long dead and the bar is a bust. Let’s go.” Ghost broke him out of his manic frenzy with a gentle hand on the shoulder. Swallowing his rage, Soap stared down at his handiwork; a limp body beneath him, skull caved in and sticky red blood the colour of your lipstick covering his knuckles and the cool ground beneath him. Bits of brain matter and teeth were floating in the bloody puddle but it still wasn’t enough; it would never be enough. He had violated you.
“Soap.” Ghost’s stern voice came again and this time Soap reluctantly stood up, knuckles aching and bust open and knees grazed from where he had knelt. “Where is she?” “In the car, Price has her in the backseat.” Soap continued staring at what remained of the sandy-haired man before yanking his gun out and firing a single bullet into his back. “Go to hell motherf*cker.” He leaned down and muttered in what he hoped was an ear, a silver pin on the side of the man’s shirt catching his eye. Picking it up he examined it closely under what little light he could, a gnawing feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.
“Ghost, I think we just found ourselves the shadow we were after.”
