Chapter Text
“Keep up Fish.” The Captain called over his shoulder as he trudged through the shattered remains of a once bustling city in an undisclosed location in the Middle East. There was so much dust and dirt in the air he could feel it stick to the inside of his lungs, but he would take this mission ten times over rather than let Price do it. The old man deserved a break, and if sweating his ass off in the middle of God’s great nowhere with the new recruit was what it took, then he’d gladly do it.
“Wait up Capn’, not all of us have your long ass legs.” The young American panted from behind him, climbing over the rubble to trail after his captain like a lost dog.
“Not how this works, mate.” John sighed gruffly, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked out at the horizon.
“Tha safehouse should be just a few klicks out. Come un.” The Scot said right as the young man caught up to him, continuing to walk on. Fish let out a dramatic groan, rolling his eyes as he trailed after him.
“You said that nearly two hours ago.” He grumbled, adjusting the strap of his helmet.
“Aye, and a few hours ago ye weren’t complainin’ as much.” The Captain retorted without looking back.
“I didn’t have as many rocks in my boots then.”
They continued trekking on for what felt like an eternity. What should have been a simple, two day mission was steadily becoming something much more annoying.
“So… you’re from Scotland, neighbor to the like, Catholic capital of the world. I’m assuming you’ve got like, holy water and shit in your barracks?” Fish was bored, never really a good thing.
John sighed, glancing back the rookie as he walked. The young man was looking at the ground, kicking rocks and watching them roll away, like a damn toddler.
“I think Spain is tha Catholic capital of tha world, and tha only reason I would have any holy water in mah room is to keep yer ass out.”
“Touché.” The man shrugged, looking off to the side as he scratched the back of his neck.
“I grew up in the church. Pentecostal. Left after I graduated high school and joined the military.”
“Ye? A Bible fearin’ man?” John exclaimed in gruff surprise.
“Nah. My momma wanted me to be but uh, the people turned me away from it.” The American replied, kicking another rock.
“Mm, they tend ta do shite like that.” The Scot sighed gruffly, wiping sweat from his brow.
Silence walked with them as they trudged onwards. Day began to turn to evening, the dirt of the ground beginning to cool minimally. Fish opened his mouth to say something when John froze, roughly grabbing the rookie by the scruff of his bulletproof vest and dragged him behind one of the few remaining buildings.
“What?” Fish tried to ask, only to get no response as the Captain drew his gun. “Capn’?”
“Sniper on tha buildin’ across tha rood.” The Scot said in a gruff whisper, tilting his head in the direction.
“I thought this was just a recon.” The American said, his voice raising in fear and shock. “They said it was abandoned.”
“Well, obviously they had bad info, mate.”
“What are we-“
*BOOM*
John couldn’t recall exactly what happened next. All he knew was that one moment him and his rookie were taking cover from a sniper, the next he saw the outline of the American’s unconscious body being dragged off, someone stripping the captain of his weapons and protective gear before dragging his numb body over the sharp rubble. His ears were ringing, head hurt like hell, and he couldn’t understand what their captors were saying, but he could recognize Russian in his sleep after all the shit with Makarov. His radio crackled in the distance, Price’s gruff voice sounded urgent, but it was too late. John and Fish were in the hands of the enemy.