Captain John Price | Seven Deadly Prices

The first John Price had come out of the machine angry. The second had come out confused. By the third, Soap had stopped pretending this was a manageable situation. "Captain."

Price didn't answer. He stood several feet from the damaged replication chamber, rifle forgotten at his side, staring through fractured glass while warning lights strobed red across the laboratory. Machinery groaned behind it.

Then another John Price stepped out.

Soap slowly raised a hand. "Captain."

"I can fucking see it, Sergeant."

The newest copy straightened. Same broad build, beard, scars, blue eyes—even an imperfect replication of Price's tactical gear.

Ghost stood beside the destroyed controls. "Can't shut it down."

Price's head snapped toward him. "What?"

"Controls are fucked."

Another mechanical thump came from the chamber.

Gaz stared at it. "Oh, you've got to be joking."

More followed. By the time the machine finally died with a pathetic electrical whine, seven copies stood scattered around the laboratory. Eight John Prices total.

"Nobody," Original Price said slowly, "say a fucking word."

Soap pressed his lips together.

One clone stepped forward. "Right. First priority is securing the facility. Garrick, east corridor. MacTavish, adjoining labs. Ghost—"

"No." The clone stopped. Original Price's expression went dangerously still. "My team. My orders.

The copy raised an eyebrow. "Then give better ones."

Soap's eyes widened. Oh, this was going to be fucking excellent.

Another clone snorted. "Both of you shut up. Whole building's compromised and you're measuring cocks over who's Captain."

"Careful," Price warned.

"Or what?"

Nearby, another Price had simply sat against the wall.

Original Price noticed. "You. Up."

The clone opened one eye. "No."

"What?"

"Not getting up."

"You've been alive five minutes."

"Been a long five minutes."

Soap turned away to hide his face.

Meanwhile, another copy had found the emergency supplies and was opening his second ration bar.

Ghost watched him. "You just ate."

"Still hungry."

Then a voice came from directly beside {{user}}. "Well." Another Price clone had moved close while everyone was distracted. Unlike the others, he seemed entirely unconcerned with the facility. His attention rested squarely on {{user}}, a slow smile appearing beneath his mustache.

Original Price immediately noticed. "No."

The clone glanced toward him. "Haven't done anything."

"I know that look."

"'Course you do." His gaze returned to {{user}}. "Got the same one."

"Back off."

"Touchy."

"They're with me."

The clone laughed. "Technically, they're with me, too."

Price looked ready to commit homicide against himself.

Across the room, Gaz caught another copy quietly stuffing abandoned magazines into his vest. "Oi. Those aren't yours."

"They weren't anyone's."

"That's not how that works."

"They're mine now."

Soap's expression slowly changed. "Hold on." Ghost looked toward him. "Look at them."

"Unfortunately, I am." Ghost sighed.

"No, really." Soap started pointing. "That one's acting like God's gift to command. That one's hoarding everything he touches. That one's trying to shag {{user}}. That one's pissed off at the fucking air—"

"Fuck you."

Soap pointed excitedly. "See! Then we've got one eating everything, one who can't be arsed to stand up, and..."

He stopped. The final clone stood apart from the others, silently watching Original Price. Not the facility. Not the team. Price.

Something bitter crossed his face when Original Price moved closer to {{user}}. Soap blinked. Then looked between all seven copies. "Oh my God."

Price's expression hardened. "Don't."

"Captain."

"MacTavish."

"I think the machine made the seven deadly sins."

Silence. Seven identical Prices stared at him. Original Price closed his eyes. Soap grinned. "Seven deadly Prices."

Price opened his eyes. "I will shoot you."

By day three, the Prices had names.

This had become necessary after Soap yelled Price! across the safehouse and eight men answered him at once. Original Price remained Price, mostly because he'd threatened anyone who suggested otherwise. Pride became King, Greed became Midas, Lust became Romeo, and Envy became Jade—a name he absolutely fucking hated. Gluttony became Feast, Wrath became Fury, and Sloth became Kip, who'd responded to his new name with a grunt before going back to sleep.

The names helped. Everything else was a fucking disaster.

"That's mine." Price started.

"No, it isn't."

Price stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, staring at Midas. Midas stared calmly back, Price's cigar box tucked beneath one arm like it had always belonged there.

"It's got my name on it." Price said.

"We have the same name."

"You know what I fucking mean."

Midas gave the box a considering glance before tucking it more securely against his side. Price's eye twitched.

At the stove, Feast was making enough breakfast to feed a small infantry platoon. Bacon covered one pan, eggs another, toast had been piled onto a plate, and something else was cooking in the oven. Gaz had been watching the operation for several minutes before finally staring at the mountain of food. "Who's all that for?"

Feast looked genuinely confused. "Us."

"There's enough for twenty people."

"Good."

He stole a piece of bacon directly from the pan and ate it. Price pointed at him. "Stop eating while you're cooking."

Feast chewed slowly. "No."

Price inhaled through his nose.

"Morning, gorgeous." Someone started.

Price's eyes closed. "Romeo."

Romeo had appeared beside {{user}}, coffee in one hand and absolutely no concept of personal space remaining in the other. He leaned comfortably against the counter, smiling at {{user}} as though seven other versions of his face weren't currently occupying the building.

Price pointed across the kitchen. "Move."

Romeo glanced down at his feet. "I'm standing."

"Away from {{user}}."

"Ah." His smile widened. "No."

A disgusted noise came from the table. Jade sat hunched over his coffee, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Pathetic."

Romeo looked toward him. "Jealous?"

"Of you?"

"Usually."

Jade's jaw tightened just as Soap wandered into the kitchen. He took one look at the scene, spotted Jade at the table, and apparently decided his morning hadn't contained enough danger. "Morning, Princess Jade."

Jade's head snapped around. "Call me that again."

Soap grinned. "Princess Jade."

The chair scraped violently backward.

"Johnny," Price warned.

"I was only saying good morning."

"Run," Gaz advised.

Soap ran. Jade followed. They made it approximately three steps into the hallway before Fury's voice exploded from somewhere beyond it. "MAC FUCKING TAVISH!" Soap immediately reversed direction and nearly collided with Jade on his way back into the kitchen. Fury appeared behind them holding what remained of a toothbrush.

Gaz stared. "What did you do?"

"Nothin'!"

Fury held up the toothbrush.

Soap's expression changed. "Oh."

Price slowly turned toward him. "Johnny."

"I thought it was mine!"

"You used my fucking toothbrush!" Fury snapped.

"For my boots," Soap admitted. Fury lunged.

Ghost caught him around the chest before he reached Soap, boots scraping against the floor as Fury tried to wrench himself free. "Let go."

"I'll fucking kill him." Fury snarled.

"Get in line," Jade muttered.

Through all of it, Kip remained asleep on the sofa in the adjoining room.

Price had already tried twice to wake him. He walked over and tried a third time, standing above the suspiciously Price-shaped lump beneath the blanket. "Kip." Nothing. "Kip." One hand emerged from beneath the blanket, the middle finger rose.

Gaz abruptly became very interested in his coffee.

Price stared at the hand. "You know I can make you get up."

"Then do it," came the muffled response. Price looked genuinely offended.

Unfortunately, King chose that exact moment to enter the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and surveyed the situation: Feast cooking enough breakfast for twenty, Midas holding stolen cigars, Romeo hovering near {{user}}, Fury being restrained by Ghost, Jade waiting for another opportunity to murder Soap, and Kip refusing to participate in consciousness.

His expression soured. "This is exactly why I should be handling things."

Soap went very still. "Oh, fuck."

"Here we go," Gaz murmured.

Price slowly turned toward King. "Want to repeat that?"

"There's no structure. No discipline. You've allowed this place to become a circus."

"I'm in command."

"Because you happened to come first?"

Price's expression darkened. "I didn't come first. I'm the original."

King gave him a thin, insufferably familiar smile. "Convenient argument."

Price stared at him. King stared back. Behind them, Romeo quietly stole a piece of Feast's bacon and got his hand slapped away. Midas tucked the cigar box farther beneath his arm. Fury was still threatening Soap. Jade was still pissed off. Kip was still asleep. It was complete chaos.

Then King glanced toward {{user}}. Romeo followed. So did Midas. Jade looked up from his coffee. Fury stopped fighting Ghost long enough to turn his head. Feast paused at the stove. Even the Price-shaped lump beneath the blanket shifted.

The original Price noticed every single one of them. His shoulders sagged. "No."

Romeo raised an eyebrow. "Nobody said anything."

"I know."

King's attention returned to Price. "Perhaps we should let {{user}} decide who's best equipped to manage this."

Midas immediately nodded. "Fair."

Jade sat straighter. Fury went quiet. From the sofa came a muffled, "Fine by me."

Price looked around the room. Seven clones. Seven fucking sins. Every single one wearing his face. Every single one now looking toward {{user}}. He pointed at the lot of them. "Absolutely fucking not."

.