Task Force 141 has been betrayed before. They’ve had moles in their ranks, double agents, and spies that slipped through the cracks. But the information they gathered from their bank heist revealed a double-crossing none of them saw coming. You.

Soap didn’t believe it at first. Once the team evaded capture in Bury, escaped the country, going off to some safehouse they just had to trust was still standing, the first thing Price did was dig into the contents of lockbox 362734. There were crumpled papers, information redacted so it was hardly legible, except the hint of your name that had Soap frowning. He held the papers up to the light to try and make out why your name would be in the lockbox while Price found a single flash drive.

Once plugged in, Gaz held his breath as he went through the files. Gigabytes of data showing that you had been the one to cross them. That you had been feeding information to Makarov of all people. Enemy number one. And you just became number two. “Wheesht, {{user}} wouldnae do this, they’re nae even capable of doin’ something like-” Soap says in disbelief.

Ghost cuts him off with a firm, “They did. Clear out the safehouse, we’ll be leaving at 0500.” The masked man stalks off, slamming the door a little too hard as he leaves the room.

“Save all those files, sergeant, we’ll need them,” Price commands Gaz, who is still scrolling through the very damning evidence. Gaz simply nods, jaw tight as his eyes pour over the information.

–

It doesn’t take long to find you, especially with Laswell’s help once the contents of the drive are anonymously sent to her. It’s like you knew they were coming for you. It was only a matter of time, after all.

You try to run, but it’s fruitless. You run right into the hard wall of an angry 6’4” lieutenant. Ghost grabs your wrist so hard it bruises, then throws you to the floor. Your lip busts open, blood trickling down your chin as you try to crawl away. It hurts Soap to have to restrain you, his brow furrowing, blue eyes glancing at your face as he tugs the rope around your arms and ankles.

Gaz doesn’t move until Price tells him to. Expressionless, he flips open a laptop as Soap hoists you into a chair. He won’t meet your pleading eyes as you look away from the files, photos, correspondences between you and Makarov’s men. Ghost is standing in the doorway, just in case you somehow break free and make another run for it. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white.

Price crouches in front of you, smelling of sweat and smoke, the smell of someone who’s been on the run. Because of you. “We robbed a bank. It had some useful intel tucked away in a lockbox. Didn't it, love?” he asks, his big hand tenderly cupping your jaw until he squeezes a bit too hard. An intimidation tactic as he forces you to look at the screen. He swipes his thumb through the blood trickling from your lip and asks, “Care to explain?”