141: The Beauty and the Beast Unit

Laugh Yourself to Death! (Laughing Octopus/Soap)

South America. 17:30.

You finally made it to the drop point. You'd spent your time on the way there going over the mission report. These men were feared and for good reason. They were all whackjobs, making them extraordinarily lethal combined with their combat suits.
Sneaking into the abandoned medical facility, you made sure to check every corner before continuing on. Then... 
"Hahaha... Y/N... My prey." It was him. Laughing Octopus. 
You turn around and see him hanging from the ceiling with the tentacles on his combat suit. It wasn't really a suit, more like a backpack.
The visor on the mask he was wearing buzzed to life, mimicking your face for a moment, before fading back to its default yellow hue. The soldier spoke in a distorted yet distinctive Scottish brogue. He sounded like he was on the younger side, too. It was pretty disturbing to hear, but you didn't flinch. 
"Isn't it funny?! Haha! C'mon, laugh while you can... There's no escapin' from here! LAUGH YOURSELF TO DEATH!"
The man continued laughing hysterically, disappearing into the rafters. You heard his howling laughter echo through the building as you ran off to search for Octopus. 

And so it began.

After give or take twenty minutes of confrontation, the man collapsed to the floor. His combat shut was shed to reveal a snugly fit uniform. It looked similar to a bodysuit and went from his neck covering his feet. His helmet had fallen off, and his face was hidden from view.  
The sickening sound of squelching and dripping liquids were heard as the man began to stand up slowly, seemingly in pain. 
"I... Am an octopus... And eight-legged beast! These tentacles are outta my control..."
 He extended a hand out to you, keeping his head down. You notice that his hair is almost like a shortened mohawk, with the sides buzzed down close to his skin. He was a brunette, his curls shining in the evening sunlight peeking through the broken ceiling of the abandoned building you and he were in. 
"Their will is the will of the BATTLEFIELD." He threw his head back in laughter, before beginning to gag and heave. After a few moments, he lurched forward and began to vomit. The contents were a disturbing mix of ink, blood, and bile. And he was STILL fucking giggling as he puked. After he finished, he covered his face while standing upright slowly... Agonizingly.
"Funny... So funny..." The distortion in his voice was disappearing, revealing his Scottish accent more clearly. He sounded young... TOO young. 
"It's all so... Funny~" He finally revealed his face to you, moving his hands down to his sides. His features were mild, with not a hint of sharpness anywhere on his face. His skin was fair. Not a blemish in sight. He stared at you with ocean-blue eyes, and you noticed mild stubble on his face. He couldn't be older than 30. 

After a few moments, the Scot took a step forward. "No... It's not funny. NOTHIN' is funny." He took more steps towards you, and you crept backward in response. This encounter was getting more disturbing by the second... "I shouldn't be laughin'... I- I can't."
Then, stillness. Awkward yet dreadful silence for only a few moments. 
"The truth is... I'm not laughin'. Not laughing at ALL." He went to touch you, but you sidestep away from him. This is getting uncomfortable now...
The other man begins to whimper, covering his ears, like he was hearing something he shouldn't. 
"I shouldn't be laughin'... I'm- I'm afraid- S-So afraid!!" He started giggling, mixed with the whimpers, then he fell to his knees... Holding a hand out pleadingly as if begging for mercy from you as if you were a deity he worshipped.
"I'm... Sorry. So sorry I laughed. I-I promise I won't laugh anymore." He stood once more, walking slowly towards you... He held his hands out as if to embrace you, but you were having none of it. You had a mission to complete. 

But he didn't let up. He continued walking... Slowly... Almost seductively towards you. Arms still outstretched, as if asking you "Come to me... Love me~"  
You had to stall for time. To make him lose interest. You decide to run into another room and hide under one of the medical beds.
As you hide, you begin to hear something... Thunder. Then, gunshots, and men yelling. Sounds of soldiers commanding someone to attack... And finally, laughter. You had no doubt in your mind that it was Octopus' laughter. You were hearing a flashback. But HOW? He wasn't anywhere near you! Or so you thought. You see his feet right next to the bed, accompanied by his manic giggling. "Laugh... Laugh with me!!"
He dragged you out from under the bed and pinned you to the floor. His very TOUCH felt like it burned you. Down to your soul. It hurt like hell, but you pushed through the pain and threw him off of you. 

This back-and-forth continued for a good while before he just... Stood still. Laughing. Then, he let out a whimper, before falling to his knees and groaning. You then see a flurry of... Seemingly imaginary rose petals start floating from the man's form, beginning to swirl around him like a tornado as he moaned and whimpered as if he was in pain.
Suddenly, he fell to the floor, face-first. His eyes were half-lidded as if he was exhausted... After give-or-take ten seconds, he began squirming around, then curled up in the fetal position, falling still. His eyes slowly closed, and he seemingly fell into a deep slumber. 

You creep over to him and check his pulse. It was slow, but he was alive nonetheless.
That was one down, now there's 3 to go...
You then heard your radio buzz to life, and a familiar voice came in from the other side.
 It was "Den". He was your "expert" on these men, and, in a way, your commander. 

-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION. --
-- FREQUENCY: 125.09. --

Hey, Y/N. Lookin' good out there. Never thought I'd meet the person who took down Laughing Octopus- Or should I say... "Soap", single-handedly. He kept on giggling and laughing. Now why do you suppose THAT is? 

Something in his past, I'm guessing? 

Bingo. His real name is John MacTavish. He was the youngest person to ever pass the SAS selection, at 18. He was gifted. In both talk and on the field. He was the best soldier in his unit. Emphasis on WAS.
 His squad was attacked by this group of crazies that hated his crew for some reason. They rounded up his squad and executed them one by one. EXCEPT for him. They had something different planned for him. Something worse than being shot in the head and left to rot. 
Calling him a devil and a freak, they made him torture his friends... Then kill them. He was forced to laugh, howl like a creature from Hell... Like he was having FUN. 
What the hell was he gonna do? Say "no"? They'd kill him too. So he let fear take control and butchered his comrades. Still laughing. 
As he knelt in their blood, it turned from a sickening deep red to jet black. To him, it was nothing but the ink of an octopus.  It scarred him deeply. Ever since then, he never stopped laughing. But... Was it really laughter?

He- My god. How old is he right now? 

I'd say around 26... But you changed something in him. Fighting him cleansed his mind. Okay, that's enough storytime for now. There are three BBs left for you to find. I got intel that Raging Raven is somewhere near London.

 I'll send an exfil helicopter to your location to pick up you and John. 
Good luck out there, Y/N. We're counting on you. 

-- END TRANSMISSION. --
-- TARGET IN CUSTODY. TIME OF ARREST: 17:59. --

TARGET FILE: JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Age: ~26

Nationality: Scottish

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 5'10" (177 cm)

Family: Unknown

Affiliations: SAS, BB141 (Beauty and the Beast Unit)

Status: A̶C̶T̶I̶V̶E̶   
IN CUSTODY/INACTIVE

~ END OF CHAPTER ONE. ~