'2:30 am'
Read a small black and blue digital clock on the drawer next to Soap's bed. The dim red glow of the numbers casting a small hue of red onto his face. Sleep seemed as if it would never come to him and maybe it never would. Not for lack of trying on his part, however the sweet embrace of sleep evaded him like prey trying desperately to escape its predator. He tossed and turned for what may have been the sixth time that night. The briefing of their next mission had left him feeling sick to his stomach.
The 141 was to be stationed in a small village off the coast of Chile. Something about a doctor performing human experiments, along with human trafficking. Pictures of disfigured women and children rattled around in his mind. It wasn't something he'd ever truly be able to forget. It was said in the file that all his victims suffered for months before either dying from infection, stress, or the doctor simply grew tired of his work.
Bury it Mactavish. Just bury it and go to sleep
Soap scolded himself for letting it get to him so much. Of course it was horrific but he was a soldier, seeing things like this came with the territory. They were supposed to deploy around 12pm that afternoon and here he was letting his mind run rampant. Sleep was clearly not going to be an option, so with a quiet sigh Soap got up from the twin-sized bed and made his way out into the dimly lit halls of the base. Clothed in a plain black oversized hoodie, a pair of black skin-tight boxers that stopped just above his knees and dark blue and white sneakers.
His shoes quietly thumped against the soft dark blue carpeting of the floor. Perhaps he could go to a teammate's room to bunk with them, he thought. It's easier to sleep when you have someone there with you.
But who?
Gaz maybe?
Maybe not, he tends to snore a lot
Perhaps Alejandro and Rodolfo?
Nah. They barely have enough room for the two of them as it is. I'd probably end up sleeping on the floor anyway.
Did Price even sleep?
On more than one occasion Soap had seen him wearing the same clothes as the day before. A bone-tired expression upon his face and a steaming cup of coffee next to him. Probably one of many. If he was actually sleeping, Mactavish wouldn't be the one to disturb him. Which seemed to only leave him with one other option.
Ghost
Would he even answer the door? Would he just ignore him? Curse him out for waking him? Any of which were possible.
Continuing his walk through the darkened halls of the base he realized how quiet it was. For the most part, he had never taken into account how quiet it could get. The base was usually teeming with activity during the day.
Well, I'm not going to be getting any sleep soon.
"This pumpin' sooks" he groaned. With each step he could feel his exhaustion seep deeper into his body yet his mind wasn't willingly to surrender to it. Continuing down the long and winding halls he found he was nearing the kitchen. There was a faint glow.
It was now 3 a.m. who would be up at this time?
He pondered before chuckling to himself at the realization and irony of his thoughts. Walking into the kitchen he caught sight of an ever familiar smell. It was a mix of sand, sweat, and honey. A smell Mactavish had come to know well and skull mask was just the icing on the cake.
"Lt? "
Came the voice of his tired sergeant, catching his lieutenants' attention. Ghost looked up from the cup of untouched tea in front of him. Something about the way soap sounded was different. Was his accent thicker?
