Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

V. Doubting

The room was barely big enough for pacing, but that didn't stop me from wearing a path into the worn-out rug. My thoughts circled like hungry vultures, picking apart every interaction, every word exchanged since I'd been brought into this clandestine world.

Soap. The name struck me as both strange and fitting. His initial coldness had given way to a hint of begrudging respect. It wasn't much, but it was a crack in his armor, a crack I could potentially widen. I recalled the way he'd hesitated before locking me in this room, and it stirred a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he, too, was conflicted, torn between duty and his instincts.

Price. The imposing captain, his demeanor unyielding as the steel door that separated me from the rest of the world. He had the authority to order my execution with a single word, but his cryptic words suggested a willingness to consider other options. His warning still echoed in my ears: trust would not come easily. He had a point; I didn't fully trust them either, but it's clear that Price will be a hard one to win over.

And then there was Ghost, the enigma of the team. His mask concealed not only his face but his intentions. He was the one I found most 'intimidating', yet there was something strangely intriguing about his unwavering presence. He saw through my facade, my attempts at defiance, but I sensed a deeper skepticism within him.

He didn't trust me, and that made two of us.

I'll have to try harder.

A sigh escapes my lips as I sink onto the small bed, its stiffness a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind. I can't afford to let doubt consume me. I need their help to bring down Canmoore and his sinister plans.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, they say, but can these people really become my allies?

I glance at the dimly lit room around me, at the narrow window that offers a sliver of the outside world. My mind races with strategies, each one riskier than the last. There has to be a way to prove my worth without betraying my own team.

Information is power, and I have the knowledge that can tip the scales in our favor. If I can just find the right moment to share it, to show them I am an asset, not a liability.

As the hours drag on, the air in the room becomes thick. I have no choice but to be patient, to wait for Soap to release me from this makeshift prison. I wonder if Ghost has somehow stopped him from coming to me at all.

It wouldn't surprise me. At all.

With a deep breath, I stand up again, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as the sound of a lock clicking open breaks the monotony. I turn to find Soap entering with a tray of food and some basic necessities.

I hate that my face lights up at the sight of him.

He places the tray on the small table and looks at me, his expression less hostile than before, but still cautious. "Hungry?" he asks.

I nod, realizing I haven't eaten in a while. He pushes the tray toward me, and I eagerly dig into the meal, grateful for the sustenance. The silence hangs between us for a moment, neither of us willing to break it.

Finally, I speak up, my tone soft but determined. "Soap, I want to help your team."

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on me. "I'm still not convinced on why we should trust you."

I swallow a bite of food and lean forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "I told you a million times before... I want the same thing you do — to stop Canmoore and his plans. He's a threat to us all. I know stuff. More than you think."

Soap's expression doesn't change, but I can see the gears turning in his head. "You could be feeding us false information."

"You're right. I could. But what would that help me right now? You guys have blown up my base already. That was the only place I felt somewhat at home... Canmoore did nothing but store his shit there. I wasn't the one producing it.." I look up at him, checking for his reaction.