mirthless

‘Makarov: "Haven't you heard, Price? They say the war is over."

Price: "My war ends with you.”'

— price, conversing with makarov at the beginning of "dust to dust".

"The healthy human mind doesn't wake up in the morning thinking this is its last day on earth. But I think that's a luxury, not a curse. To know you're close to the end is a kind of freedom. Good time to take... inventory. Outgunned. Outnumbered. Out of our minds. On a suicide mission. But the sand and rocks here stained with thousands of years of warfare... they will remember us. For this. Because out of all our vast array of nightmares this is the one we choose for ourselves. We go forward like a breath exhaled from the earth. With vigour in our hearts and one goal in sight: We. Will. Kill him."

— price, before the last mission of “modern warfare: 2”.

"There's a simplicity to war. Attacking is the only secret. Dare, and the world yields. How quickly they forget that all it takes to change the course of history – is the will of a single man."

— price, at the beginning of "dust to dust".

Frenzied hands darted to and fro, half-slurred shouts slugged across the room as stumbling feet shuffled between bags. A hectic attempt at preempting the impromptu trip abroad had spiralled into the three drunken fools teetering about, blurred eyes blinking heavily as they shoved whatever items deemed plausible into whatever luggage possible. A mess, it was a mess. 

Throughout the ordeal, she had learned her exposé’s name.  

“Pavel.” Hurled through wined stained lips, explosive disgust emphasising the ‘P’ each time she spat it out. Chanted like some sort of malediction, the others joined, stomping around the room and cursing the man as they helped her pack. 

“I mean, fuck him, right?” She swivelled on her back foot, nearly crashing into Johnny as she tried to face them both, shaky hands grasping onto his forearm in an effort to steady herself. The Scott wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulder, though he was no more stable, both swaying together, attempting to smooth out a dress between them. 

“Sleazy little fuck.” He agreed with all her sentiments wholeheartedly. The second he clapped his eyes on those photos the man felt the distinctive garble of bile rushing up his oesophagus. It plagued him as much as Price and Kyle, perhaps for more selfish reasons, that night all he could think of was his sisters. What if it was their private photos thrown up on screen? What if his sister had been taken from her life, captive to a crime she’d staggered into?

“This one?” Kyle held up a pouch stuffed full of products, half-lidded gaze faltering as he leaned closer to the two, decidedly shoving it into one of the duffle bags before awaiting an answer. He soon latched onto Lily’s other side, arm wrapping atop Soap’s as he cuddled into the others, foreheads butting together with mild amusement. 

“I want to say something, though, I don’t know if it’s allowed.”  An electrified chuckle presses past his lips, and the two draw closer, cheek to cheek with Garrick as they urge him on. 

“Not like that’s stopped you before.” Soap scoffs, biting grin only spurring the other on. He knows what Kyle’s gonna say, the question whirled around his mind at some point too, it was only natural. 

“You gotta tell us now.” Lily nudges her forehead against Garrick’s cheek, humming softly as he laughed aloud, pushing her back in his drunken state. They all swayed as a collective, arms locked around each other as they drew closer by the second, urgently needing to know the secret that tempted to spill. 

“The piercings.” Kyle exasperated, Johnny howled out laughing in response, Lily grinned from ear to ear. It felt like she’d never left university, like she was clinging to two housemates as they pawed over ‘going-out’ tops and drunkenly blazed through social barriers, bonding over embarrassment, wine and illicit piercings. 

“Which ones?” She urged, barely able to keep herself from cackling. Kyle’s gaze flickered down to her breasts and Johnny nearly collapsed them all, veering violently as he threw his head back snorting out his amused delight.  

“You know!” 

Dawn crashed down upon her head so hard it felt like the pitiless blades of sunlight that lacerated her curtains were stabbing her through the atmosphere. Moving seemed a monumental task, so nauseated at the world she’d convinced herself that even gravity felt heavier as she wrenched upright. For a dreadful moment, everything spun, wispy grayscale sparkles smeared across her vision before her body caught up with her movement. Heavy slaps of queasiness prevented any real progress, stuck hunched over on her bed taking small, desperate little breaths. 

Three, hard knocks chimed to the pounding of her headache. It took another round of knocking for her to realise it wasn’t just the war drum of her hangover marching all the alcohol out of her system. A dull, rasped attempt at calling out seemed to die before the door. Vocal cords scorched from a night of cheap wine and shouting. 

The entrance swung open anyhow, his bearish gate filling up the space and assessing the damage, dutiful in the way he combed over her and the room in one long look. She’d expected him to come up with something smart and smug, rub in the fact that she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. He remained quiet, eyes fixated on the neat pile of luggage by his feet. 

“Going somewhere?” With a raised brow, Price stepped over the bags and focused back on Lilith, sucking in a short breath as he watched her try, and fail, to hide a small retch. 

“I know you’re going to follow up on Pavel.” Lilith grumbled, hands slowly grasping at either side of her head as she let out a pained groan. “And that you’re taking me with you.” 

“And so you’ve packed.” His weight shifts, contemplating the situation. Apart from the small pile of bags, everything seemed to be put in its rightful place, clean and tidy. Not a glass nor even a bottle in sight. If it wasn’t for the awful state she was in, he’d have a hard time deducing what happened. 

“You’re a very good alarm clock.” Lilith barely manages a tiny laugh, small huffs forced through before she retreats into another drawn-out groan. Everything hurt. What made it worse was the fact that it was all self-inflicted. 

“You weren’t at P.T., n’ wanted to check in is all.” 

“Thought P.T. was optional.” 

“It’s strongly recommended.” A moment passes and they both chuckle airily. She had come to find that most things with the Captain came ‘strongly recommended’ in other words, ‘you'd better bloody do it’. 

Price remained hovering beside her bed, quietly listening to the general plight of existence that came with waking Lilith. She seemed softer, steeped in the sticky ache of her bad decisions, not fully firing on all cylinders. What puzzled him was the compliance, the packed bags and the lack of lip. Besieged by the forlorn shock of her subdued nature, disbelief mounted at her compliance. It became clear that they would not argue. 

Struck now with the anticlimactic gape in his morning, a chunk of time was carved out of his calendar, devoted to clashing and corralling his captive. He’d anticipated an uphill battle, felt the goosebumps bite at his skin as he stood outside her door. This, her, ready and rough around the edges, was not planned for. Complexion pale, a sickly sheen to her skin, he knew it was just a bad hangover but the desire to cosset her riled within him so urgently it felt like he had taken the fight within himself, absorbing the anticipation and putting it to work against his self-restraint. 

He had the whole morning free. What better than to cavort with his captive instead?

The grip tightened around the bottle he’d brought in with him, intending to use it as some sort of bribe or force her to sober up with it. A cruel, creaky squeal cried from the bed frame as he sat down beside Lilith, shaking his head at the delayed reaction she gave to the high-pitched sound. 

“Ere’ get this down and we’ll try some painkillers.” He breaks the seal on the cap, offering her the gently fizzing electrolyte, sighing deeply as she grimaces at the smell. “C’mon Lilith, love, it can’t be that bad.” 

“Kyle and Johnny, I’m gonna kill them if I ever recover.” Divisive mutters, uttering various curses under her breath as she pushed herself closer toward him, placing her hand atop his and letting the other guide the bottle back to her parted lips. 

“Good girl.” He watches her intently, unconsciously swallowing with her. “Serves you bloody right for getting so drunk.” His grumble delved deeper into his chest. “Dumb and Dumber got their fair share of punishment this morning, nothin’ like a good long sprint to work off the booze ay’.” 

Lilith pulled away and restrained a garbled cough, amused at the thought of Soap and Gaz dragging themselves around the base to the tune of Price’s shouting. The drink swooshed around her body and felt incredibly unsettled, borderline threatening, nausea fighting against her with every deep breath. Shaky hands raked through her hair as she pulled it atop her head messily, soon shuffling across the sheets to settle beside John, resting on his shoulder with a pitiful noise. 

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.” Despite his chiding, John shifted to wrap his arm around her, drawing her frame closer to himself. 

“Feel sorry for me!” Lilith demanded half joking and half petulant, intention clear as she let her weight fall back, trying and failing to slump back into bed with his arm around her. He only remained upright for so long, as usual, finding it very hard to deny the woman what she asked for. How could he? After all that’s happened, How could he? When the thought of her invading his team, his space, slowly began to shift into something different. Was it an invasion if she was now welcome? Accommodated for? There was a place for her in their base, in their dynamic, in his schedule, in his mind. 

And this morning? Now, by his side. 

John allowed himself to recline back, laying beside her awkwardly at first. Unsettled as he looked straight ahead at the crumbling ceiling, counting the cracks he’d need to fix, adding them to the list of things to do. They had embraced before, it was fleeting and well missed but this was entirely different. Far more intimate. More so than felt natural, for the prolonged minute of quiet that fell between them, the Captain began to question what he was doing. 

“Thank you, by the way, for all the things on the list.” Coy, voice barely above a whisper. She shifted on her side to look at him. “I thought you’d cut at least half of it.” 

John adjusted himself, taking in the timid tones of her voice, surprised to see she almost looked guilty. The depths of his pupils widened, encroaching upon the blue, committing every bump and divot of her visage to memory. It felt imperative as they’d not been this quiet and this close before. The self-conscious cloy vanished with her proximity, enthralled by her presence once again. Though wicked, dishevelled and rough, she still seemed to have a certain allure. 

“Was plannin’ on teasing you for that list.” He huffed. “Must’ve slipped my mind.” John took his opportunity, hedged his bets on the lull of her hangover and the unguarded disposition that came with it. He gently coaxed her closer, the firm hold around her shoulders now drawing her flush to his torso, relaxing even further as Lilith curled into him without protest. It was overindulgent, the comfort gained from feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the weight of her head on his chest. He daren’t begin to console his ever-fretting mind, the gnaw of culpability and duty could not be reasoned with. The longer Lilith stayed, the less he could justify his actions, and the more outrageous his behaviour. 

“So, where are we going then?” She sighed softly, eyes barely fighting off sleep as they blinked slowly, soon resorting to just lightly closing them. 

“Netherlands, tonight, flying commercial.” John began to slowly draw circles against the exposed skin of her arm, slightly bemused at how swiftly she seemed to slip into drifting off. 

“Hm, taking Stockholm syndrome to a new level huh.” Lilith hummed with a sleepy smile. 

“Stockholm, Lilith, is in Sweden.” 

“Fuck.”