Pattern Breaker

Sterilized State of Mind

Johnny was out of the shower, freshly washed and feeling refreshed before he allowed himself to think about Alejandro and Price. The way Price had run, panicked, toward Alejandro– and the fucking look they both sent in Soap's direction made his stomach turn. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what it was about.

Apparently, that was a bold-faced fucking lie, because before he knew it he found himself in front of Price's office door– pounding on it desperately when he heard the sounds of arguing filtering through. The door swung open, courtesy of Alejandro, and Soap couldn't place the expression on his face.

"Oh, bloody hell." Price groaned, his head falling into his hands. The air in the room was tense, and it threatened to crush Soap as the familiar clawing of anxiety wormed through his nerves.

"Soap... This isn't a good time, amigo." Alejandro said softly.

"What's going on?" Soap asked, glancing between the two other men.

They didn't answer him. The paleness over Price's face shot fear through Soap's entire body.

Ghost. They hadn't heard from him in a while, right? And Johnny had seen those expressions many times before.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Price..." Soap growled, his fists balling together.

"Soap, I don't think–"

"No more fucking secrets, god damn it!" Soap shouted. " What the fuck is going on ?"

"Easy..." Alejandro tried to sooth him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Soap quickly shook it off.

"No, no 'easy' right now. Something obviously happened, and I want some fucking answers. Price ?"

Hesitating, looking back and forth between Soap and Alejandro, Price sighed, clicking something on his small computer before twisting it around to face Soap. It was a video, prerecorded. Shitty quality, of course.

"Don't say we didn't warn you."

But what was there was unmistakable.

Ghost, handcuffed and tied to a metal chair. Trapped inside of what appeared to be a concrete cell. His face and chest were bare, only dressed in blue jeans and socks covered in both dried and fresh blood.

Soap's mouth went dry and he almost fell over as the blood rushed away from his head. He couldn't process what he was seeing. It was a thousand times worse than any of the night terrors he had experienced thus far, and he was half tempted to pinch himself to see if this was one of them.

It wasn't. They were never this bad.

He watched the screen in horror as Ghost's head was forcefully lifted up, hands grabbing at his hair roughly as they ripped cloth from over his eyes. He looked like absolute shit, but his chest was still rising and falling with labored breathing. There were so many abrasions and wounds across his skin, opening old scars and forming new ones, that Soap couldn't keep track.

"What are they saying?" He asked Alejandro, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"It's payback." He responded. "They think El Sin Nombre is dead. And they're out for blood."

"Soap..." Price said slowly, as if Johnny was a ticking time bomb about to explode at any sudden movement. "The video... Was addressed to you."

"To me? Why? How?"

And as if they heard him, one of the men reached down and picked the dog tags trailing down Ghost's chest almost gingerly, fiddling with them for a moment before being handed a blowtorch. It lit, fire crackling smoothly out of the barrel as they pinched part of the chain between two fingers– allowing the necklace to dangle down as they heated the metal. Ghost's eyes were wide open, wild from pain and exhaustion. The man dropped the tags back on to his chest– and Ghost groaned against the hot metal before they pushed the tip of the blowtorch against it, shoving it flush against his skin as the fire continued billowing out of it.