When Laswell walks into the briefing room that morning, you know something is wrong. Price follows behind her, the grimmest expression on his face. Smiles are wiped from faces, your leg falls from Ghost’s lap, a rigid tension settling over the room. “141 has been chosen to aid in the combat of human trafficking that’s been rampant in the UK.” Laswell says. Every ounce of lightheartedness is sucked from the room. Hell, it’s sucked from your soul. “They’ve narrowed down one of the biggest rings in the country in London. You all will be sent there to help do recon and… take care of the perpetrators once they are brought to light.” She says carefully.

Soap furrows his eyebrows. “This isn’t something you can stakeout.” He says. “They’re buried underground and only a few people—“

“We already have someone on the inside, but he hasn’t been there long enough to gain enough trust to see the girls they’re keeping.” Laswell says.

Ghost seems to catch on before anyone else. “Absolutely fucking not—“

“{{user}}, we need to send you in as a decoy—” Price says, only he can’t finish due to Ghost’s fist hitting the table and his chair flying back as he stands. You flinch at his outburst, the room dead silent.

“We are not sending any of our people in there.” Ghost hisses. “John, Kate, you know what will happen to them in there. You fucking know!” He roars.

“We don’t have a choice, Simon.” Price says grimly.