After Effect: Speedy Recovery

Note: The events of the story will follow the events of Soap's Journal to an extent, but it is not guaranteed that the events exactly follow the journal.

After Effect: Speedy Recovery is a short story in the After Effect series by EternalBlaze.

Soap's Story
The last thing I remembered was shooting Zakhaev and being hauled up as Kamarov and his men came to save me. As I was being hauled up, I couldn't help but notice that Gaz and Zakhaev's were pooling together. I wanted to pull Zakhaev and his tainted blood away from Gaz, a man of integrity and courage. There was nothing I could do for my friend. I looked up as I went out of consciousness and my vision blurred into whiteness.

All of our work had finally paid off. But for what? The death of my teammates, all of them like my brothers? Everyone from Bravo Six was dead and I couldn't help but think of their deaths, as if the images were permanently implanted into my brain.

When I woke up, I found myself on a not-so-comfortable cot in a small room. It was dark and I ached, probably even more than when I was on that bridge. Kamarov came into the room, presumably to see how I was doing.

"Where are we, Kamarov?" I asked him in a surprisingly hush tone.

"We're in Russia. Don't worry. It's safe here. You'll recover in no time." He replied with a friendly smile on his face.

I attempted to smile, but I somehow couldn't. I nodded instead and went back to laying on the cot.

"It's going to be okay, Soap. You'll be out and about in the next few days, I reckon. But for now, rest." Kamarov reassured me, leaving afterwards.

Kamarov was right about my recovery. I was sort of hoping it would take a bit longer, but it didn't. There were three things I didn't like about the safe haven, though, besides the fact that it was in Russia. One, the food was complete crap, two, I preferred watching Glasglow FC on television, but could only read about them here, and three, the speedy recovery. Luckily, I didn't stay for too long.

I returned to Birmingham for a temporary leave. Nikolai frequently brought over friends... lady friends, that is. I guess they had a thing for wounded soldiers. I didn't let them distract me from what I was really after; making myself better than I was before, for those who died that day on the bridge.

Everyone knew who I was. Very few asked questions. I listened to their conversations, which usually consisted of injuries, stories, the usual. The news apparently thought the Russian warheads we stopped were failed nuclear tests and that the cargo ship we were in was "lost at sea."

After visiting Birmingham, I immediately traveled back to Credenhill to begin my training. This consisted of workouts and tests, usually lasting all day. I ran with the selection candidates. Even though I should have been happy about having no nerve damage, I wouldn't be happy until I was 100% fit.