Not All Shells are Hollow

Baited Breath

There had been many times in the past that MacTavish questioned Price's decisions. You don't go through basic training, a couple of tours, and Selection all to get into Special Air Services and come out without at least a shred of common sense. And, if he were being completely honest with himself, he knew a lot of his Captain's plans were at the very least borderline insane. Despite that they always worked out in the end. Did the ends justify the means? Maybe not, but Price cared more about the destination than the road itself.

At the same time, in spite of his better judgement, he always ended up trusting Price's decisions. It was something of a safety clip to him. Unlike Price, he worried about the cost of winning. He hesitated with risk. A soldier can't afford hesitation.

As a result, he was drawn between fear for Ghost's safety and trust in Price's authority. He tried so very hard to justify it, coming up with reasons why it'd turn out okay. The best he could come up with was that as long as Ghost could just keep his fucking brain inside his skull, then he could give the signal and they would move in according to plan. If he gets shot on sight then it all goes out the window.

So he listened to every update from Ghost, watching the building through the trees as he nervously drummed his fingers on the side of his M21. There were stretches of time, minutes, when Ghost said absolutely nothing, and it left MacTavish to his wild imagination. In that time, he could be captured, something could have gone wrong.

"Enemy contact. I may be going dark soon-" Ghost's statement was cut off by a clack and a yelp.

Immediately, MacTavish sat up and asked, "Ghost? What was that? Do you copy?" His heart hammered as he waited for a response.

Seconds passed before a faint "I'm compromised..." was uttered. What followed was some exchange in mostly Ukrainian. No gun shot though.

"Alpha Team," MacTavish finally said, "this Bravo Six, bone's in the dog house. Over."

"Copy," Price returned. "We're just going to have to sit tight and see if they took the bait."

More time passed, at least ten minutes. Finally a voice came over the line, a gruff and heavily accented one. "To any Western forces who wish to interfere, this is Viktor. We have captured your comrade. We know he was alone. If you dare to advance on our position, we will gun down him and every hostage. Our terms still stand."

At this point, they all switched their channels to avoid being overheard. "That's our cue. Alpha Team will be moving up to reconnect with Bravo Team. Charlie Team, get ready."

"Roger that, Price, I'll lead Ares and Gator around to the south side and get in position," Langley, the impromptu leader of Charlie Team, responded. If all went well, they'd be Ghost's immediate back up.

MacTavish looked back at the rest of his team; Gridlock and Marlin were ready to move, Crane got to his feet, and Toad continued to keep an eye on the building through his scope.

-()-()-()-

14:17...

"Now Roba had Riley and since he wasn't dead, he knew the torture was soon coming. An' let me tell you-" Ghost was cut off by one of the terrorists tightening the ropes on his wrists. He looked back over his shoulder at the masked man and snapped, "Hey! If you tie 'em any tighter, lad, I'm gonna escape on account of my hands falling off."

This thin threat was enough to make the guard stop and step back. He proceeded to fix his black jacket.

"Right... so, speaking from experience, they got torture down there the Kremlin couldn't even dream of." The moment Ghost said this, one girl in particular looked absolutely mortified. "Don't worry, sweetie, all this is long over now. But it was painful to the body and mind. Putting even Riley and his highly trained men to the test. But the one thing pain does is bring up things that show a man who he really is inside. Like it or not. Discipline, precision, control. These are what Riley built his whole life on. Break those down and the dark stuff begins to ooze out..."