Pattern Breaker

Wishing to Go Out with a Whimper, Faced Instead with the Reality of a Bang

Saying they hit the jackpot on intel would have been an understatement.

Price had immediately contacted Laswell the moment they made it back on base– and the five of them once again were crowded in Price's office with Laswell's voice joining them from the small laptop. There was valuable information, some that would have come in handy a long time ago had they known about it. Plans for the three missiles they had recovered and promptly... disposed of in various manners. Old communication between General Ghorbrani and Hassan, as well as with El Sin Nombre– Valeria. Communication that took a much more violent tone from Hassan's side when Ghost had assisted in the execution of Ghorbrani. Among those were more plans of action– some scrapped with dates of intent long since passed and some with vague timelines.

It wasn't the first instance Soap had gotten to see the other side of things in such detail from his missions and reconnaissance assignments, but it was different this time. And he found himself almost bitter regarding it. Vengeful, in a way. Nostalgic wasn't the right word, but reminisce in the past he did. Finding his meaning in life through the military only to inexplicably end up losing himself once again because of a massive, obscenely attractive masked man.

With the information Roach had found, he could feel the looming weight of his voluntary discharge pressing on his chest like an anvil.

There was a high chance this was going to be it. One of the last missions he would go on as a valued member of the 1-4-1. All the way across America, soon to be dropped onto the edge of Alaska. A compound of sorts not unlike the one when Soap had first met Ghost– their first mission together. A list of names– some they recognized and some they didn't. am any important, cold blooded men...All said to be holed up in one location.

Must have never learned not to put all your eggs in one basket.

Except there was one particular name missing from the manifest. Soap had gathered that much, from the stern "Is that it?" "Yes." shared between Ghost and Price– and the knowing look passed between the two.

Laswell was just as ready to end this "war" as the rest of them were, and from what Soap had learned from Ghorbrani's execution– this wasn't going to be much different. The group of them would head to the far edge of Alaska in less than 24 hours, with Laswell pulling as many strings as she could and providing them with another missile. While Alejandro and Rodolfo were still neck-deep in helping the rebuild of their own base back in Las Almas, they pulled some of their most skilled Vaqueros and equipment to follow suit and end this once and for all.

Soap wasn't sure how he felt about actually leaving Mexico for the first time in months– since he found himself in custody of sorts with the American Border Patrol.

Soap's entire body was buzzing with adrenaline, but not from the mission. And not entirely from the prospect of a ten hour flight at minimum to their next point of interest. Trapped in a metal cage. He'd been all over the world at this point with varying degrees of danger surrounding them. On planes, boats, helicopters– name the mode of transportation and he had been on it. Name the weapon and he's used it. Nearly any situation one can imagine, he's been in it. And he had the scars on his body and in his psyche to prove it.

He found himself rubbing the puckered scar that lay across his chin, a poorly healed memory that suddenly threatened to swallow him whole.

His only saving grace was Ghost's looming presence in the corner of the room– perched atop a small filing cabinet with an odd familiarity that he had been there before. It was unusual, Ghost being stationed easily within his line of sight instead of behind him– quiet, nearly invisible even in the brightest of sunlight.

He wanted to be seen. Wanted to be seen by Johnny. He wasn't hiding, lurking in the shadows anymore.

But the glint in his eyes, the promise in them every time they met eyes... Grounded him. Which was surprising, considering... Well, everything . The avoidance. The tension. The rejection. It was akin to the same way he felt back when Ghost helped him survive in Las Almas. Despite being physically alone, he wasn't truly. Not with Ghost's calming voice in his ear, deep and gravely. Praising Johnny when he did something that he approved of, the concern any time he had a close call with a Shadow.