"We got this, LT," Soap said, as he bumped Ghost's shoulder with a warm, confident smile. Oh, how wrong he was.
The 141 was sent on a mission to a lab in Indiana, USA in the middle of Fall. Soap thought the country-ness of the state was beautiful. From their helicopter, he could see farmers in the fields, harvesting crops. Some kids that were helping waved up at them. Soap turned to face his Lieutenant.
"Do ye think those kids ken what we're up tae? Like, do they ken this is a military helicopter?" He asked.
"Probably not," was all the Brit had said.
"Very enthusiastic today, aren't we, LT?"
"Piss off, MacTavish."
~~
When they landed at their destination, everything was eerily quiet. No birds. No cicadas. Not even a tree frog.
"Stay frosty. We're in enemy territory," Ghost muttered into the comms.
"Hey, Ghost. What exactly are we tryna do? I mean, Laswell didnae give us anything detailed," the Scot pointed out.
"I don't know, Soap. But you'd better keep your eyes ahead."
"Why's tha'?"
"Tree." Soap turned his head and swerved out of the way before walking face-first a tree.
"Thanks, LT," he said with a breath of relief.
~~
Skip ahead a bit, the team were firing at a bunch of pale, gross-looking people chasing after them. Soap ran for cover behind a nearby wall. He took a breath before continuing to fire. He looked over at Simon, who was hiding behind another wall.
"What the bloody hell is goin' on?! These people look an' act like—" One of the people walked up behind the Lieutenant and bit him hard on the shoulder.
The Brit quickly stabbed it in the side of the face with his trusty knife, then tossed it away from him. He backed against the wall and slid down onto the floor, breathing heavily.
"Ghost, are ye alright?!" John called to him.
"Just... call Price... Do something..." Simon muttered, as his eyes slowly rolled back into his head.
"Simon!"
"M'sorry, Johnny..." And with that, Ghost closed his eyes.
