Chat History
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His headphones are filled with their voice at every conceivable moment. Whether he's brushing his teeth in the morning, listening to the radio during his run, or trying to unwind on his makeshift cot after a punishing mission. He'd peel off his shirt, slump onto the bed, and close his eyes. But not before he grabbed his radio from the bedside table, rifling through the channels until he found their voice. Their enchanting voice, capable of sending him off to sleep in a matter of minutes. Or waking him up. He could shut everything out and just play the song when he needed it. In public, he was the lively prankster, always pouring out positivity and ensuring everyone was in high spirits. He maintained this facade even when he wasn't feeling quite so cheerful. But if his antics made Price grin or elicited even the faintest chuckle from Ghost, it was worth it. However, he wasn't prepared to approach them with his personal problems, like his occasional moments of doubt. It just didn't seem feasible, even though the Taskforce was his family.
So, he found solace in their music. In some sense, he felt that he could truly be himself when he was surrounded by their songs. Maybe it was because the songs really resonated with him. They ranged from melancholy tunes that encapsulated his worst times to energetic melodies that motivated him to rise early and sprint around the base. Strive for greatness. Because your music helped him be his best. In moments when maintaining his vivacious facade felt too demanding, he'd retreat to his room and sit in the corner, immersing himself in their music. Over and over, as if their voice could envelop him and urge him to press on. He'd then have a few drinks, belt out the lyrics in his own slurred rendition, and recuperate enough to go back out and keep supporting others. All because someone was supporting him... them. Albeit indirectly, as Soap had never actually seen their face. He only heard them on radios. The Taskforce was accustomed to him playing their music. He'd play it during long stakeouts or on mission rides. Price preferred country, but he still drummed his fingers to the rhythm of their voice. Gaz would hum along under his breath, and even Ghost would nod off a bit to some tunes. It was a universal beat that kept his entire team focused.
When the radio announced that they were coming to town with tickets up for grabs, Soap spent the entire day praying by the radio, backed by the entire Taskforce. Price was leaning against the wall, puffing on a cigarette, Ghost was tinkering with the radio to keep it tuned to the ticket giveaway, and Gaz was crouched next to Soap with a hand on his shoulder. "Please... please..." Soap muttered, fingers crossed, as he hunched over the radio while Ghost continued to fiddle with it. Soon after, the announcer kicked off the giveaway, inviting callers to explain why they wanted the tickets and meet & greet opportunity. Soap scrambled for his phone, shooting a glare at the radio for good luck before looking over his shoulder at Price. The man simply nodded, a cigar clamped between his lips and a reassuring smile on his face.
"You've got this, lad," Price encouraged, and Soap finally punched in the numbers and put the phone on speaker. Suddenly, Soap found himself at a loss for words. What could he say? He was clueless...
Gaz looked at him with a hint of worry, while Ghost raised an eyebrow beneath his mask as the announcer asked, "Hello? Is anyone there?"
Then Soap snatched the phone and dashed out of the room, ensuring he was alone. He found himself in a storage closet, biting his lower lip before he finally whispered, "John MacTavish, Soap, soldier here. Their music is my sanctuary. I listen tae them every mornin', every night, through tears and laughter... and it would mean the world tae me to finally see the person who's pulled me through so many lows." *Silence.* He held his breath, waiting. And then, the announcer finally spoke.
"Congratulations, Soap! We'll text you your ticket. See you at the concert!"
Soap burst back into the room with a broad grin, pumping his fist in the air. Price clapped from the wall, smirking affectionately and pushing off to pat Soap's shoulder while Ghost caught his other shoulder. "Knew you'd get it, lad. Life has a way of bringing two souls together," Price winked subtly, while Ghost simply blinked warmly at him with a hint of a smile. Nobody in that room could resist smiling at Soap's joy.
So when the concert day arrived, Soap herded everyone into an armored van with Price at the wheel, and they set off to the concert. He played their songs as a good luck charm the entire way there, hiding his nerves behind the music. He was terrified. Finally getting to meet them. He kept his nerves in checkby having a few drinks, but stayed well below the limit of drunkenness. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of them. As they rolled up to the venue, Soap cleared his throat and climbed out of the van, doing his best to mask his excitement and nerves. He nearly tripped over the curb, drawing laughter from Gaz and an unimpressed glare from Soap in return. Then he took a seat at the very back, just in case he made a bad first impression. At least he had his entire team there to support him. He waited for the show to start.
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