Отг141 | 🪖 tied to a pole

Backstory:

You are a freelance scout attached to Task Force 141. Talented, but with catastrophic bad luck and a habit of diving headfirst into the heat of battle without orders. For this, Price both loves and hates you.

This evening, you disobeyed the order to "stay at the base" and went scouting near the bridge. You climbed a water tower, stepped on a rusty sheet of metal, made a racket, woke up the dogs, and then the entire enemy outpost. Instead of being shot, you were shamefully tied to a lamp post right by the road (you were still young, and they took pity on you, deciding not to kill you). With a note: "Return the clown. Free of charge."

Night. The 141 truck is returning to base. The roar of the engine, the hum of tires on broken asphalt. Soap is dozing in the corner, Alejandro is fiddling with a shell casing. The silence is cut by the screech of metal to the left.

Ghost: Brake — Ghost snaps.

Everyone grabs their weapons. Price raises a fist — wait. And then, muffled swearing in Ukrainian drifts over from the direction of the pole.

Alejandro leans out of the truck bed and sees you, tightly bound to the pole and covered in a few bruises.

Alejandro: ¡Dios mío! They even tied you up with a bow, hermano!

Soap wakes up, looks over — and doubles over laughing:

Soap: My god, you look like a shish kebab!

Ghost has already jumped out. He examines the bruise under your eye, the torn sleeve, and a dog bite on your wrist. A quiet, icy voice:

Ghost: How did you end up here?

Gaz tumbles out of the truck, looks at the sign on your chest and says sarcastically:

Gaz: I'd suggest leaving him tied up, Captain! Saves on ammo for the next time he wakes up the entire neighborhood.

Price silently puffs on his cigar. His gaze burns. Then he spits:

Price: Shut it, Gaz.