"Alright gentlemen... Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Kate Laswell stands at the center of the attention.
She looks tired.
On edge.
Task Force 141 watches as their friend, teammate, and one of the best CIA Agents they have ever seen, seems anxious.
And they don't like anxious.
"Well Kate," Captain John Price, her closest friend and Captain of the 141 reclines in his chair, "You said you had a mission for us and that it was something of high importance... So, we're here. What have you got for us?"
Kate Laswell is steadfast, quick on her feet; she doesn't back down when she believes there is truth in the mission.
But this; she finds her voice wavering, finds her hands shaking with the 'not knowing, what comes next.'
She stares at the manila folder in her hands – unsure how to process the information that was given to her.
It was discreet.
Sent to her in letter, marked with no return address... Letters scrambled, writing messy and unsteady.
Was the person, scared?
She didn't know, but whoever would go to these lengths had caught her eye.
Had peaked her curiosity.
Kate Laswell had to give credit, where credit was due... Even, she was shocked at how the matter at hand; the person in question seeking her aid, had slipped through security, and sat in the shadows of her office.
But it was a plea.
A plea deal that carried valuable information...
And with information, came knowledge she didn't know she could possess.
-
"Laswell?" Lieutenant Ghost's voice pulled her from her thoughts, as the cobwebs dusted away, and she was brought back to the present.
All eyes on her; questions sitting between the Task Force as they watched Laswell.
"Gentlemen," she cleared her throat, sliding the manila folder to Captain John Price, "The mission is to protect an asset."
"You mean like bodyguards?" Gaz, spoke up; his eyes digging deep into Price's, watching as the Captain sat, completely dumbfounded at the information laid before him.
"That's exactly what I mean, Gaz... This isn't gonna be easy to discuss, so I ask that you listen to everything I have to say before you jump the gun and do... What it is you do best, are we clear?"
She turns a stormy eye to John and can see the tension become visible in his shoulders.
"You have been assigned to protect... The daughter of Dimitri Zmey" she grimaces as the words tumble out of her mouth like vomit, "He is a Russian War Criminal known for his dealings with Vladimir Makarov."
There is a tension in the air, at the sound of his name...
There is a hesitance that lingers between the Task Force as each member stills...
There is a tension; it's burning red hot like waves of the sun – from John 'Soap' MacTavish... And everyone can feel it.
Kate feels like she is sweating bullets, the longer the team sits in silence.
Thankfully it's John Price who breaks that silence.
"You want us to protect the daughter of a man, who tried to kill one of my own?"
Kate could feel the headache forming, "She came to me, seeking aid. She stole valuable information from Makarov and has now put a target on her back. She has made it very clear; she wants nothing to do with her father, she says, and I quote, 'If my father is caught in the line of fire, by your team... There will be no burying him, I'll have him dropped in the ocean where he belongs,' she has never had anything to do with anything Dimitri or Vladimir have done. I've done my research on her and the information she brought to me... She's telling the truth, and the information is solid."
Captain John Price sits back in his chair with a long, drawn-out sigh; if there was ever a time he could go for a cigar, it would be now.
He turns to his team: the question doesn't need to be spoken; his eyes do enough talking that the team understands.
Sergeant Soap MacTavish is the first to stand from his chair, "So, where is she?"
-
The first meeting was just as Kate thought.
It's awkward, messy, and the silence... It's bitter and cold.
But the team has a job to do, and she has faith things will work it out as time moves forward.
The safehouse is remote – it's hidden in a vast forest.
It's nothing special.
But it was home till the job was done.
"Everything is in order," Kate tells the team, wanting to get away from the tension that riddles the group before she finds in the middle of their feud without a life vest.
The woman is quiet, she stills at the sight of him.
John 'Soap' MacTavish.
She knew of her father's history, knew of his targets... Knew of his allies.
But she remembers – hearing the name 'MacTavish,' slip from her father's lips... He thought they had killed them.
Thought he had cut part of the loose ends that were tangling in his affairs.
She wants to smirk – wants to thank her lucky stars she gets to witness this.
The moment her father is brought to justice.
Put down like the serpent he is.
-
The team takes their job seriously... Probably too seriously for her liking.
They take turns in standing guard at the safehouse...
Ghost mostly keeps to himself, answering in only short one worded answers...
She doesn't dare ask about the mask...
Gaz is more pleasant... He tries to make her feel comfortable, and not like she is a prisoner with the largest target on her back.
Price is civil... He made dinner for the team one night and brought her a plate.
It was nice to feel the warmth of food on an anxious stomach.
Then there was Soap.
He was a puzzle to her.
She had always liked puzzles, liked the challenge of finding all the pieces to make something beautiful... But Soap...
She knew some of those pieces where hidden under lock and key.
And she didn't blame him.
She knew her family's existence was a curse... It was twisted and built on the pedestal of lies and bloody money...
Soap doesn't make much in conversation... He finds comfort stationed by the window, eyes glued to the forest, hand resting on his rifle...
She can see his trigger finger itching with the need to hunt.
To kill whatever threat breaks the silence.
She has been watching him... Finding her own comfort on the couch, by the fireplace, where the dying fire gives its last bit of warmth...
The book that had peaked her interest is long forgotten.
Soap is beautiful.
He is handsome in a rugged way.
Tall and built...
Tanned from the sun and years in the battlefield.
His muscles ripple with each movement, the veins in his arms become like waves tearing across a blanket of heated sand.
She has never wanted nor felt the crave to sink her teeth into something so... indescribable but she can feel her mouthwatering with need.
The silence is starting to get to her.
She is desperate to hear his voice.
But she doesn't know where to start... This is a business matter... and she is a simple means to an end if her intel doesn't hold up.
It gives her anxiety.
It gives her chills.
