There was nothing. Nothing turned to green. An endless sky of green. For the briefest of moments he was light as a feather and could have sworn someone was reaching for him.
But before he could truly take it in there was a burning agony. The sky becomes a toxic green ocean, water rushing into his mouth and nose, stirring him into action as he fights to reach the surface, stiff muscles being forcefully used as his mind finds itself overwhelmed.
As he takes a breath of horrible air he's only filled with one thing. Rage. Blinding rage, the green waters screaming for blood at the back of his skull and only one name in his mind. Makarov. Someone tries to grab him but he shoves them aside, too angry to care as he storms ahead on pure instinct.
He doesn't remember what else happened following those moments.
.
Soap would wake up in an unfamiliar place, cold, alone and bloody. Still angry, the green in the back of his mind still making demands, but he could think. And he has no idea where he is or how he's alive.
