Aiden

“Gondor calls for aid.” Gaz quipped.

“Eh?” Price quirked an eyebrow at the reference. He knew it, of course - the 141 had a monthly movie night, and they’d landed on Lord of the Rings rather frequently. But Price was rather chuffed to maintain a near nonexistent relationship at best with whatever internet meme the others were referencing at any given moment.

“Nevermind.” Gaz turned to try and find Soap, but his partner in minor crime was nowhere to be found. Gaz wandered briefly around the shop, stopping suddenly at a turning rack of cheap sunglasses. Just as reached for the plastic frames, a familiar face popped around one of the many metal shelves.

“Garrick!” Soap grinned, eyes glinting dangerously. “On me, amigo.” Gaz rolled his eyes as Soap snickered, leading Gaz to a rack of bright green, purple, and yellow toys.

“Water pistols.” Gaz whispered. “You want to use those on Ghost and Price, don’t you? Are you mental?”

Soap simply chuckled, loading his arms with balloons and tipping his chin toward the guns.

“Aye, they’ll never see it coming.” He bent to a soft crouch, skulking toward the cashier with exaggerated care. Poking his head all-too-conspicuously around another corner before waving Gaz forward.

Gaz sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. He followed Soap at a sedate pace, shrugging an embarrassed apology to the clerk as Soap dumped the watery weapons on the sales counter.

“Will that be all?” The look they gave Soap was little more than apathetic acceptance of their lot in life.

“I don’t think so. Unless…” There was that purr again. The rolling brogue that signaled to Gaz that trouble was afoot.

“Do you happen to have those pump ones? Super Soakers, I think they’re called.”

The apathetic look somehow intensified. After a short staredown, the employee replied with a curt, “Yes. Next to the squirt guns you just picked up.”

“Cheers!” Soap scampered off, a plan clearly already forming. He returned moments later with two oversized water guns, a sharp grin crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Aye, this’ll be all.” He said grandly.

“Alright, then.” The cashier rang them up, bagging their things with a level of malaise usually reserved for the actively suicidal. “Here you are, sir. Have a wonderful day.” The cashier intoned.

“Thank you.” Soap chirped, and swept the things off the counter as a sheepish Gaz joined him outside.

“Boys!” Price shouted with his usual air of effortless authority, the effect not dampened in the least by the garish flamingo print button-up he’d managed to find just east of the oversized straw hats. “It’s time to hop to - the beach is about five minutes from here, and the sun’s climbing.”

Silence greeted him.

“Garrick! Johnny!” Ghost tried, once more draped in enough black to shield almost all of his pale skin. His legs, he kept confusingly bare in grey and black board shorts.

Ghost and Price glanced at one another, unease settling over their shoulders. When the sergeants got quiet, there was a problem. Wordlessly, they agreed on a plan - Ghost would take west, Price east. Keep sharp, the lads are deadly when they want to be, their glances read.

Unfortunately, the lads were also well aware of Price and Ghost’s tactics by now. They hadn’t split to flank, oh no. They’d gone up.

“They’re on the bloody roof!” Price shouted when the first water balloon landed just short of his Birkenstock-clad feet.

“Bastards.” Ghost growled, already breaking into a jog to find the access ladder. Laughter, loud and raucous, followed him as another near miss landed just to the right of him. He began to swear violently, a manic grin stretching his mouth before splash!

“Direct fuckin’ hit!” A familiar Scottish accent crowed. **

“JOHNNY!” Ghost roared, breaking into a full-bodied sprint as he spotted the ladder just up ahead. He leaped, catching the third rung up with a grunt.

“Augh!” Price shouted on the other side of the building. “Gaz, I swear to Christ-” Another splash, catching Price’s ankles, and his face turned a fetching shade of tomato red.

It was Price’s turn to growl out an expletive, realizing as he turned another corner that the ladder was on Ghost’s side. Gaz had gotten reinforcements, with a frankly unnecessary number of water balloons raining down on Price, narrowly avoiding his new straw hat. A thought occurred to Price - they were going to ruin his new hat. The tag clearly red do not get wet.

“I think the fuck not.” He put his back into it, careening around that third corner and spotting the ladder. There was a shout, then two. Not the playful crowing of a victory, but the startled vocalization of a prey animal being downed.

“Good man, Simon!” Price shouted, hoisting himself up the ladder. By the time he poked his head up and over the flat cement lip, Ghost had already hogtied the boys - zipties carefully tightened not to cause pain, but to keep them from reaching those water balloons. Gravel crunched under sandals as Price made his way toward the rest of the team.

Ghost turned slowly, nodding once as he placed one flip-flop clad foot on Johnny’s ass. “Hostiles secured.” Price could hear the smile in his voice.

The two officers looked down at their subordinates, wheels turning as they tried to think of an appropriate punishment. It came to them both at the same time.

“Right.” Price crossed his arms over his chest. “8 kilometer run. On the beach. Simon, give them their legs back.”

“Rog.” Ghost produced a knife - from where, Price didn’t want to ask - and cut the ties around the boys’ ankles.

Price chortled, hefting the plastic toy in one hand and sipping out of a coconut with the other. “They always manage to find trouble, don’t they?” He shook his head, amused.

“They do.” Ghost agreed, staring out at the horizon. He’d not shed his hoodie or mask but had divested himself of his flip-flops. He dug his blindingly white toes into the sand, wiggling them on occasion. His eyes stayed fixed on the two Sergeants, glistening with sweat and panting heavily, as they continued their punishment.

“How do we know they’re done?” He asked.

“When they’re crying.” Price replied with a grin.

Ghost let out a snort. “Alright, then.”

Soap opened his mouth to shout something, but the sharp glare from Ghost had him snapping his jaw shut with a cowed click.