My Strongest Weakness

Whiskey and irony

The tense silence among the taskforce was near deafening. Everyone sat around the table with a set of cards in their hands, although the game they were playing was unclear as they went around in a circle, throwing random cards down. Among the silence Soap had called bullshit, which had roused a preoccupied Gaz from his quiet slumber nuzzled against the Scotsman, It had also pulled Ghost from the dark confines of his mind, where nothing but negative outcomes played in his mind. "I thought you were playin' Pitch."

"I thought we were playin' Spades."

Alejandro threw down his cards, grumbling. "Thought it was Go fish." That rouses a small chuckle from Soap and Gaz, while Price gathers the cards and shuffles them before dealing them. The sour mood didn't shift as they were all dealt the deck, Price throwing down three cards face down. "Three Aces."

Ghost pulls his cards up from the old table, tossing a single card on the small pile. "One two."

"Bullshite."

Ghost motions to the four cards sitting on the table, earning a whine from the Scotsman. Alejandro was next, throwing two cards down. "Dos treses." Silence once again followed save for the call of cards and people saying bull. Eventually even that died out. Everyone sat in uneasy silence, until Soap threw his cards down and rubbed his face. "Sir, what're we doin'?"

The man in question lowered his own cards face down, gripping his nose. "Son, ya need to be more specific." Soap points to the door frowning. It wasn't often he was genuinely angry. "Those fuckers out t'ere usin' our base like sort o' vacation spot! T'ey 'ave no respect fer us an' t'ey 'aven't been 'ere for more t'an four 'ours! Why t'e 'ell do we need t'ose arseholes ta begin wit'? We dinnae need anyone's help ta begin wit' an' now we need ta babysit fookin' grown arse toddlers fer t'e next 'owever long!" The Sergeant folds his arms with lips pulled into a snarl, and Ghost was sure if he was a dog, the hair on his head would be standing on end.

Price rubs at his face, a long uncomfortable silence following the Sergeant's mini rant. "I understand that you are frustrated John, but right now that's all we can do. There's a transitional period before a slave can be moved to the next Military unit, and the alternative would be the Vultures staying here for a year. Seein' how you feel right now, that's a no go."

Gaz rested a hand on Soap's shoulder, the Scotsman sighs, flopping against the back of his chair. "Sir, if I may."

Price nods. "Go on Sergeant."

Ghost watched the man shift uncomfortably, sucking in his lower lip before chewing on the edge of it. He clears his throat, averting his eyes to the table. "I may be the only one who can somewhat understand what. . . it's going through. That is an obvious fact." Gaz takes a breath, sitting up straight. "Captain, we don't know how long this mission could take. It could be a few hours, or a few years. Is there any way for us to speed up the process?"

A pen could drop with how silent the room was, and it was obvious to Ghost that the Captain was deep in thought. "I couldn't give you a clear answer, son." The admission left more unasked questions hanging in the air, the already foul mood souring further. Alejandro rests his cards down, eyes squinted slightly; a clear indication of him thinking. "For now, our best course of action is to work with the Vultures and see what happens. If we can find a way to shorten the mission, then I say we look over it and see if it would be a wise idea to move forward with shortening it. We still only have basic information on Ultranationalists. Sometimes it is better to take hard situations one step at a time."

"Who knew you could give good advice, amor."

The sudden appearance of Rodolpho pulls a smile from Alejandro, the smaller sliding into a chair between Alejandro and Ghost.

"What happened while I was gone?" Price tosses seven cards to Rodolfo, humming. "Discussing the Vultures and our new asset. . ." Rodolfo wrinkles his nose, a long groan pulling from his throat. "I ran into their Sergeant. He. . . ugh." The Sergeant Major fiddled with his cards as Soap picked his up, Gaz leaning forward with a frown. "What happened?" Rodolfo grumbles as Soap tossed a card down. "Where do I even start?"

______________________________________________________________________________

"Alright people. Gather 'round."

Twenty plus people surround the large board screen Laswell and Price stood next to, chairs pulled up and the scent of BO suffocating Ghost. He glances at Colonel Williams, who holds the chain to König's collar, the metal glinting in the low light and never once rattling as the slave stood completely straight with hands resting at its sides and dull eyes glued to the floor.

'Fuckin' hell. Do they even wash it?'

"We'll be splitting into two teams. Team one will go to Poland where they will meet up with informants. You lot will be staying at a safe house where you will continue to gather information and take down the base stationed there. This team will consist of Colonel Williams, Private Harding, Sergeant Cassidy, Sergeant Garrick, and myself." The last names were nearly muttered by Price as Laswell flips to the next slide. "The next group will accompany Colonel Vargas to Mexico where they will scout out a trading post before taking action. This group will consist of Sergeant MacTavish, Sergeant Martinez, Lieutenant Riley, Colonel Vargas, and König.This mission will take a week, so move fast and hit hard. Don't let 'em know you're there."

The next slide flips, the boring briefing that Ghost had already gone through by himself on numerous accounts continuing. "We will check back every day. Once the team in Mexico has finished their assignment, they will either come back to base and wait for the one in Poland, or will accompany us to continue to gather info."

Next slide.

With each passing second, Ghost found himself losing interest in the briefing and instead to the Colonel and the living, breathing, brick wall that stood behind him. It wasn't even moving, head downcast and shoulders bunched to its neck. Ghost squints his eyes at the slave, brows twitching with irritation when he looks at Colonel Williams who was smirking. The man himself was leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his uniform with a mock look of interest. When Ghost heard his name being called, the lieutenant flicked his harsh gaze to Price who had his brows raised in question. "You listenin' son?"

The man nods, fixing his eyes back to the Colonel who was now staring at him with a wider grin than before. He wanted to wipe that stupid grin off that asshole's face, hands clamping around the cloth of his long sleeve, the fabric pulling taut over his biceps. His jaw clenched, as Williams shifted in his seat, cocking his head to the side and raising a brow.

"Something wrong, lieutenant?"

Feeling an elbow against his side, Ghost glares at Soap who was motioning to the screen with his eyes. He nearly growls, sending another glare to the Colonel who gives a knowing wave, turning back to the screen. "Fine, sir. Continue." Price rolls his eyes, arms folded. "Did ya even listen to anything I said, Ghost?" The lieutenant huffs, standing straight. "Team one goes to Poland for intelligence. Team two will go with Alejandro and Rodolfo to Mexico and take care of an outpost. Team two will either meet up with the people in Poland or come back to base and wait for further instruction. Team in Poland will be there for roughly a month so there could be a change in plans for the team in Mexico. Anything I miss?"

Price and Ghost were left in a staring contest for what felt like hours, but it was only a few seconds before the captain rolled his eyes and looked at the rest of the group. "Anyone have any questions?" Silence follows, stretching uncomfortably long before Price claps his hands with a shake of the head. "We leave at 0400. Get your shit together and head for the heli you belong to."