Chapter Text
SIMON “GHOST” RILEY - TF 141
NOT SO COLD
LAS ALMAS, MEXICO
NOVEMBER 9, 2022, 02:15
“I copy.”
Ghost suddenly released the aire at the sound of his partner’s voice. He knew it was him because of that horrible Scottish accent.
“We almost lost you.” When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
The other snorted and he knew he’d composed one of his usual smirks.
“Are you hurt?”, he added, remembering he’d fallen down a ditch.
“I’m solid”, quickly answered Soap.
Ghost frowned a little as he heard a grunt of pain hidden behind his words. He didn’t know if he was doing it to be tough, or not to worry him, in either case, he had to keep him alive. All of this had happened under his command and he felt responsible.
“Well, let’s see how good you are”, he said, pretending not to notice. “Don’t lose blood. You’re gonna need every drop you got.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He paused before speaking. “Where are you?”
Simon looked around. He’d made it to the city in one piece and had taken refuge in an alley, narrowly escaping from Grave’s men. The place was poorly lit, but it didn’t care: on the contrary, he’s grateful for that gloom. Going unnoticed was the most important thing at the moment, moving like a ghost. And he was really good at it. Steel, he needed to meet with Soap. He needed to find a meeting point that was easy for both of them to recognize.
Who’d say…
“I saw a church”, he answered and stood up. “I’ts a good meeting point. I’m going to it.”
“Saw it”, nodded Soap and sighed. “Graves and his Shadows are making a mess.”
“They’re looking for Hassand”, answered Ghost, indifferent, and looked at both sides of the alley.
“Hassan and us”, he grunted.
“Don’t get distracted”, Ghost recommended. “You’re going to have to improvise in order to survive. Look for supplies, something to make tools and weapons.” He composed a bitter half smile. “Welcome to the guerrilla.”
At that moment, a memory tried to break through and Ghost pushed it back to its corner, weary. This had been a long time ago, when he was young. What the hell, he was still young. The problem was that his entire life, from childhood to adulthood, had been reduced to violence.
“Holy shit… poor fool…”
Soap’s voice distracted him and he stopped on the spot, looking around for enemies. He located one in front of him and he crouched down, approaching slowly and in silence. He prepared a knife and grabbed the Shadow, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. He stabbed him in the throat twice and left him on the ground.
“What have you seen?” Asked softly.
“A bloodbath.”
The resignation in John’s voice reminded him of himself, when he started out in the army.
“Worry about your ass… you have, exactly, zero allies here.
“I thought we’re friends”, Soap commented. There was a teasing edge to his voice, yet Simon didn’t fail to notice a slightly hurt tone in it.
“We’re teammates”, he corrected, choosing the dimly lit street at a fork. “Friendship isn’t in the manual, Johnny.”
“Neither does putting on a mask.”
Ghost accused the blow without saying anything. He didn’t know if there was a double meaning in that sentence, but his subconscious interpreted it that way. Put on a mask and pretend he was a tough guy? No. He was a tough guy. A feelingless killing machine. He’d never been allowed to have feelings, why would it be any different now? Why would he have to open up? Because that bloody Scotsman was hell-bent on treating him like they’re friends? No. They’re partners, nothing more.
Are you sure, Simon?
He closed his eyes briefly and forced himself to take a deep breath. A couple of Shadows were walking down the street, so he hid in the shadows of a doorway and waited patiently. As the two men passed by his side, he let them take a few steps before leaving quietly. He stabbed one in the chest and the other, who turned on him quickly, pushed him against the wall and plunged the knife into his throat. He held him there, pressing his hand hard against his mouth, until he stopped moving.
He pulled out the knife and wiped it on the Shadow’s clothing before putting it away.
Perhaps he fooled the rest of his companions, but not himself. Ghost hadn’t cared for anyone in years, except for Price. That guy, obsessed with cigars and hats, had pulled him out of the hole he had gotten into long ago. He’d dusted him off his clothes, patted him on the back, and spat out a handful of kind words when he needed them most.
He saved your ass too, remember?
Well, that too.
“I’ve found a flashlight. It’s not… far from its owner.”
Soap’s voice startled him. Again . That fool wouldn’t shut up even under water. He was alone, in the middle of enemy territory, and he wouldn’t stop talking. On the other hand… well, hearing him meant he was still alive and that was fine.
He took a deep breath.
“Be careful with it”, he warned him. “You’ll see better, but you’ll attract more attention.”
Ghost didn’t like flashlights. They’re like putting a fucking neon sign on top of him with the words I’m here written on it. However, he knew that not everyone could move well in the dark. He steeled himself with patience when Soap snorted.
“What is it now?”, he asked, jumping over a fence and hiding behind some dumpsters.
“The mercenaries are killing everyone.”
Simon stared at the ground for a moment, his eyes blurring. Along the way, he came across the corpses of several families. Men, women, children. All killed in cold blood by the Shadows.
“War crimes”, he answered with a sigh, leaving his hiding place and entering a house.
“It makes me want to make a few.”
“Tyranny”, Ghost grunted, walking into the living room and stepping over the body of a woman. “It’s unsustainable.”
“Do you think they’ll give us the green light to go after these people?”
Ghost almost let out a bitter laugh out loud. Soap’s innocence and thirst for justice almost touched him.
Almost .
“No more green lights, Johnny. We’re alone.”
“Not at all.”
He stopped when he saw a flashlight. He backed up and searched for his location. Over there. Another pair of Shadows broke down a door to get inside. The tenants screamed and Ghost’s jaw clenched. He walked out the door and approached quietly. He was aware that he didn’t have time for this, that he had to move quickly to get out of there alive and save Soap’s ass; however, and despite everything, he couldn’t sit idly by. He pulled out a knife and threw it at one of the Shadows and left the house. He waited in the street for the other and tackled him before throwing him to the ground. He plunged a knife into his throat quickly and held it there until he stopped moving.
“What are you talking about?”, he asked Soap, remembering his comment.
“I’m sure Captain Price, and Laswell, would get us out of this joint.”
One corner of Ghost’s mouth turned up slightly.
“So you think?” This time, Price isn’t here to save us and Laswell… well, she’s close with Shepherd. Calling her would be a mistake. Alejandro is the only one who can be trusted… if he’s alive.”
Soap was silent for a few seconds and Ghost took the opportunity to continue moving through the city. The church was getting closer and he was certain that he would arrive long before his companion. John was getting too distracted by things that weren’t important, not right now. He had a lot to learn.
Are you going to blame him?
Of course not. In fact, a part of him was glad they weren’t the same. The other felt a slight pang of envy. As a child, Ghost was always giggly, full of energy. Something that faded away, little by little, as he grew older. His broken family forced him to join the army to flee; however, it was late. The smile that always illuminated his face had been lost in tears, blows and pain.
“If they knew we’re here, they’d help us out.” Soap’s voice broke her train of thought again. “I trust them.”
“Choose well who to trust, Sergeant,” he growled a little bitingly. “The ones closest to you are the ones that can do the most damage.”
“Good advice, Lieutenant. I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused and, when he spoke again, it was with a hint of humor. “I think when I grow up I want to be like you.”
That made him sketch a tired half smile.
“I hope you’re better than me, Johnny.”
“Maybe I already am.”
Ghost sensed a smile on Soap’s lips.
“Then this is your chance to prove it.”
“Do you think I’ll live long enough?”
“Probably, not.”
“How ominous”, he replied without losing humor.
“Focus, Johnny”, he reminded him, shaking his head. “We’re not safe here.”
“I’m centere-Holy fucking shit.”
Ghost heard a dog barking over the radio and a pang of worry went through him. He hid in a portal.
“Johnny?”
“A fucking caged dog”, he replied with a snort.
Simon closed his eyes briefly, relieved.
“If it barks, shoot him and leave quickly. Don’t let them discover you.”
“How ruthless you are, Simon.”
Something stirred inside him when he heard Soap say his name. He’d always called him by his nickname, hearing his first name in his voice was… weird . Still, he didn’t dislike the feeling and he drifted with it for a few seconds before focusing again. Although he didn’t like people, John had earned his place near him. Despite all of Ghost’s attempts to keep him out, Soap always greeted him with a soft punch at the chest and a huge smile.
Fuck.
He cocked his head.
“What has two legs and bleeds?” he asked suddenly.
“What?” John asked in turn, confused.
“Half a dog.”
“What the hell…? Was that a joke?” He added, surprised.
“Maybe.” He left the portal and continued advancing towards the church. “Don’t let anything stop you, Johnny.”
The square was full of cars… and Shadows. On the other hand, there were many damaged streetlights, covering too many areas in darkness. This gave him an advantage. Moving in the shadows was a skill he’d honed over the years, something that earned him the nickname Ghost. He ran to the back of the church and jumped over the gate. He took out a handful of more enemies and got a sniper rifle. Ghost nodded to himself, removing all the ammunition from the corpse, and sneaked inside. John was still out there, alone and unarmed; if he could establish himself in one of the towers, and track him down, he could cover his back from tere.
He glanced around until he came across some stairs. Simon didn’t meet anyone on the way up, though he wasn’t surprised either. The Shadows were searching the nearby surroundings of Alejandro’s base, Graves wouldn’t believe they had gotten this far in such a short time. And that had been a big mistake. Ghost was fast and, despite everything, Soap was too. The guy had earned his nickname for his remarkable speed, and precision, when it came to eliminating enemies; a handful of Shadows wouldn’t stop him so easily.
Even so…
“Where are you?”
“Out… in a dead end.”
“Get close to the walls and get down,” he ordered, adjusting his rifle. “You may get a brag rag for this.”
“A medal?” Soap asked mockingly.
“Oh, an award,”he replied helplessly.
He heard John click his tongue.
“That’s rubbish.”
“You said you wanted a win, right?” He reminded him. “Congratulations: you’re a winner.”
Soap laughed and mumbled something in Scots.
“English, MacTavish.”
“Sorry, sir,” he replied without losing humor. “Let me translate: Go fuck yourself.”
A smile drew on his lips.
“Much better.” He moved the rifle around the area, looking for a dead end, until he located Soap. “The church is north of the city,” he reminded him. “I’ve posted myself as a sniper in the tower. Fight your way up here and you might survive.”
Soap snorted in response and Ghost took another look around. He watched him make his way through the houses and surveyed the surroundings for enemies. Those near the church didn’t seem to have noticed that he had passed by; the others… well, he couldn’t see them all from there. Despite having a privileged position, the rain didn’t make things easier.
He located Soap again and fired at two Shadows that were nearby. He also saw several groups of drug dealers but, for now, they’re not a danger.
“Well… look at this,” John crooned. “Scotch tape.”
Ghost raised an eyebrow. Despite the time they had spent together, he was still surprised that his partner was so talkative.
“The tape can be very useful,” he just said, remembering all the uses he had given it throughout his life. None for good.
“In case I’ve to wrap a present?” Soap asked mockingly.
“It’s a way to look at it.” He couldn’t help but imagine Soap wrapping a present with duct tape and handing it to him. Ghost pushed that thought away quickly. “Keep it. It can be used to hold more than one thing.”
“Don’t forget I’m a smart boy, Lt.,” he replied, and Ghost heard the noise of the tape around something. Soap paused before continuing talking. “I’m about to play rough with the Shadows.”
Simon felt two emotions settle in this stomach. The first, fear for his partner. The second, the thrill of taking down those guys. He swallowed before speaking.
“I like the sound of this.”
His mate chuckled softly, like a child after a mischief.
“I’ve made a booby trap.”
Ghost raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“A man after my own heart…”
“Thought you would like it.”
Another smile that he couldn’t contain. That night he’d smiled more times than in recent years and he felt it very strange.
“You thought well.”
“By the way…”
“Yeah?”
“Have you lost a knife?”
He moved the rifle and fired at a couple of narcos who were getting too close to the last spot where he saw Soap.
“Several.”
“Think I found one,” John crooned.
“Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork,” he admitted.
“So you came through here.”
“Obvious. On my way to the church.”
“ And you left me? ”
Ghost raised an eyebrow at the tone of his partner’s voice. Soap sounded mocking, yet he had a hurt tinge to the bottom. Like when you drink a cup of fruity tea: at first it’s sweet but, in the end, it leaves a bitter aftertaste. He felt guilty for half a second. Nothing else.
“I’m used to working alone.”
“Thought no one was left behind.”
A reproach. The truth was that he was right to throw it in his face. Despite being made up of people who had no relationship with each other, Task Force 141 behaved like one big family. That was one of its strengths… and weaknesses too. Maybe that’s why Soap seemed hurt by his comment.
Simon shook his head, suddenly irritated.
“Get to the church at once,” he snarled.
He looked around the area, trying to locate him. He couldn’t. Ghost supposed that Soap would continue moving through the interior of the houses.
“I’m trying to keep you alive, Johnny,” he added in a softer tone. “And that you get here in one piece. One of us has to live to tell the tale.”
His mate let out a soft laugh.
“So you like me now?”
“Not in the least. You still have a long way to go… don’t get distracted.”
Lightning lit up the city for barely a second and thunder followed, reverberating inside the tower. Ghost looked around and hoped the church had a good lightning rod. The sound of the rain hitting the roof grew more insistent and Simon forced himself to take a deep breath. The night was getting better.
John said something he didn’t understand and Soap knew he was back to speaking Scots.
“Speak English.”
“It’s raining fucking hard!”
“Then say so,” he growled.
“I did! I’m going to give you a crash course in Scotch, Lt,” he added mockingly.
“Why learn a language when we both speak the same?”
Soap laughed.
“I’m a very good teacher.”
Ghost frowned a little. Had he noticed a seductive tone in his voice? No, it couldn’t be. Why would he flirt with him? He wrinkled his nose at the thought. Fooling around, as a concept, was something he didn’t do. Not even in his teenage years. Of course he had his moments, he wasn’t a novice at it, however, that kind of things was very low on his list of priorities.
On the other hand…
The idea of letting himself be loved by another person reared its head in his mind, testing the ground. Ghost let it through, curious to see where it took him as he struck down another enemy in the distance. His mother, and Amelia, had been the last to show him this kind of affection; the rest of the people he’d been with were just looking for something physical. He would never admit it, but sometimes he missed contact with another person. Nothing sexual, of course, just physical contact between two friends.
You don’t have friends, Simon , his mind reminded him.
He clicked his tongue and quickly pushed the thought away. It was also true. The only ones he had were Price and Amelia. And, well, maybe the Scottish fool. Ghost could have been gone for more than half an hour, yet there he was, perched on a church tower, like a demon watching over something that belonged to him.
“I’m more interested in you being a good student,” he finally answered. “Rain’s good. Will cover your tracks.”
“And theirs too…”
“We better worry about you, Jonnny.”
“So…” again that mocking tone in his voice. “Do you like me now?”
“When you’re alive, yes.”
His partner chuckled and Ghost realized, too late, his comment. When you’re alive, yes. What the fuck was that? What the hell was he doing telling Soap he liked him? One thing was Simon knowing it and another thing was to release it to the four winds and for the rest to find out. Well, not everyone. As far as he was concerned, they’re alone on that channel for now. And through it all, Soap was discreet. Not that he cared about his reputation (something he didn’t exactly care about), but he considered it private.
And he didn’t share anything personal with anyone.
A small explosion, followed by the sound of gunshots, put him alert. He searched for the smoke in the rain and aimed the rifle there. his anxiety, and worry, climbed from his stomach to his throat at not locating Soap.
“Still upright, Johnny?”
Silence.
“Jonnhy?”
“I’m fine,” he replied with a huff. “Clear area.”
“Good.” Ghost sighed imperceptibly. “Stay alert and meet me at church.”
“Copy.”
He felt his heart calm down and unfocused his gaze for a moment. It had been a long time since he’d had a high like that. Adrenaline coursing through his veins after nearly dying from an enemy attack? Many times. Too many . A high for believing that he’s going to lose someone? Practically none. He could count the times with the fingers of one hand. And he would have plenty of fingers. He’d already told John and stood by it: he worked alone because loneliness was so much better than being forced to worry about those around him. Because that could cost him his life.
“I’m in a coffee shop,” Soap informed him.
A chill ran through him at the thought of a piping hot cup of tea.
“Bring me some tea,” he asked. “Though, right now, I’d kill for a whiskey.”
“Scottish, I hope.”
A smirk covered Simon’s lips.
“I drink bourbon.” It was a lie, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hurt his pride.
“Ah, you have no idea, Lt.” Soap snorted. “There’s only tequila here, anyway.”
“Don’t like it?”
“Tastes like dog piss.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Soap was silent for a few seconds.
“Do you also have a tactical use for it?”
Surprisingly, yes.
“Hunting wolves. The smell attracts them.”
“And, do you hunt with the mask on?” Again that mocking tone. He was sure he’d a smirk on his lips again.
“Of course. The camo version.”
“I’ll bet you sleep with that thing,” John gave a soft laugh.
“Soundly.”
“You’re out of your mind, Lt.”
“That’s for sure.”
It wasn’t true that he slept with the mask on. At least, not in his own room. In missions, and on the battlefield… there yes. He didn’t hide his face for privacy, he had no family left to lose if he was found out. No. The mask was for something else. Throughout his life he had discovered that, even the bravest soldier, was afraid of what he couldn’t understand. And more if there was little light. That someone like him (tall, robust and with a deep voice) approached with a skull for a mask, will scare anyone.
“You’re going to owe me one for this.”
Again, Soap’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head, trying to locate him. He didn’t see him, so Simon deduced that Soap was still walking indoors.
“Why?”
“Because we’re fixing each other’s problems.”
“So you think?” He asked with some indifference. “And, what’s my problem?
“The mask…” Soap whispered. “Take it off.”
The way he said it made his hairs stand on end, raising goosebumps.
“Show my face?” He managed to ask.
“Yes, sir.”
“ Negative. ”
Soap chuckled.
“That’s because you’re ugly.”
“Quite the opposite.”
“I highly doubt it,” Soap continued using a mocking tone. “I’ll have to check it out. I think I deserve it.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Ghost asked. “Wanting to see my face?”
His partner was silent and Ghost felt that he had hit the nail on the head. However, when the silence went on too long, he grew concerned.
“Johnny?”
“Still here.” He paused before continuing with a more serious tone of voice. “It’s not all about seeing your face, Lt. There are other things.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve got a shotgun. It was tied to a trap, so I disarmed it and took it with me.”
Ghost raised an eyebrow at the obvious change of subject. He decided not to insist.
“be careful with weapons. They produce noise and it’s convenient for you to go unnoticed.”
“Don’t worry, there are many ways to use a shotgun.”
The corner of his lips turned up a little, just for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and let it out gently. Soap hadn’t answered his question and now he was curious.
Damn.
That idiot was finishing turning his world upside down. And it was his fault for letting him do it. Yes, Soap was a charismatic guy, one of those who made others want to be around him, however, he hadn’t insisted so much with anyone else. Maybe he saw him as a challenge. Getting along with the grumpy and taciturn guy would be quite an achievement for someone like him. Was that how John saw him? No, he didn’t think so. The Scotsman was easy to read, like a bloody open book; that’s why (and because of his personality) people liked him, because he couldn’t fake something he didn’t feel. So, when John was looking at him that way, when he smiled at him and tapped his arm as he spoke, Ghost knew it was from his heart.
Simon closed his eyes when he was aware that the door he was trying to close was opening a little more. And he wasn’t sure if he liked it.
I need to think of something else.
“Hey, Johnny…”
“Yes, Ghost?”
“Graves is burning everything down to find us… why?”
Soap was silent for a moment.
“He’s just as involved as Shepherd,” he snorted. “Whatever it is, this is a complete bunch of bullshit and we need to get to the bottom of it.”
“These things are solved with precise and lethal fire, something we don’t have,” Simon sighed. “Besides, we’re not safe here right now.”
“We’re nowhere safe right now,” he growled bitterly.
He was right. Even if they made it out of Las Almas alive, the Shadows would be looking for them. They had to prepare a good plan, rescue Alejandro and his people and go after Graves. That bastard would pay for what he had done.
He looked around the city, looking for Soap. Simon located him a few streets further east, near a tunnel that led to the church. He better observed the streets and surroundings.
“The city is full of tunnels, Johnny, and you’ve one very close that leads to here,” he informed him. “Although I warn you it’s flooded. If I were you, I’d prepare myself for a good cold bath.”
“Are you going to come down and swim with me, Lt.?” He asked in a mocking tone.
Tempting.
“I prefer to stay at the top of the tower. It’s much drier.”
“And more intimate. Are you seeking God's forgiveness?”
“God doesn’t exist,” he growled. “And if he does, he’s a fucking psycho.” Simon spied a group of people walking towards Soap. From the looks of them, they weren’t part of Grave’s men, so they’d to be narcos. “Have you entered the tunnel yet?”
“Nope.”
“Hurry up. If they catch you, they’ll kill you slowly.”
“Mercs or narcos?”
Ghost snorted.
“Narcos. They’ll take videos.”
“Oh, really? So, I should give them your email, so they know where to send them.”
“I don’t plan to see them. Not more than once.”
“You’re sick, Lt.”
Soap’s horrified tone of voice failed to distract him from the image that had just crossed Ghost’s mind. The idea that the narcos would torture his partner to death blocked him for a few seconds. He slammed the thought away and set his jaw, clenching hard on the rifle. If they put their hands on him, if they touched a single hair of his stupid hairdo, he would come down like a wrathful demon and rip their hearts out one by one.
He forced himself to take a deep breath.
Ghost had seen the videos that narcos recorded when they tortured and killed people. Not for fun, it wasn’t some kind of strange filia. It was, plain and simple, a way to feed him hatred; a way to remind him that his work was necessary. To remind him that people were the worst that had existed in a long time.
Well, not everyone is the worst , he reminded himself.
Of course he was generalizing, because doing so was so much easier. On the other hand, it made it more difficult for him to bond with people. It wasn’t something he wanted either, however…
This shit again, no.
He needed to be distracted again. And maybe Soap too. He took a deep breath and cocked his head.
“Two goldfish are in a tank…” He began tentatively.
An amused snort came to him over the radio.
“Is this another one of his jokes, Lt.?”
“Maybe. I’ve seen you a little tense.”
“Sure,” he chuckled softly. “Two goldfish are in a tank. What else?”
“One turns to the other and says, ‘You know how to drive this thing?’” There was silence on the other end of the radio and he shrugged. “Little army humor.”
“Very little…”
Despite his words, Ghost heard a smile in his tone.
“Another one?” He asked, encouraged. One of the few things in life that he liked were bad jokes.
“Why not.”
“Why don’t blind people jump in a parachute?”
“No idea, tell me.”
“Because dogs get shit scared.”
Very bad jokes.
“It’s been terrible, Lt.”
“Could you do it better?” He challenged him.
“Sure. Why don’t shrimp share?”
He frowned, trying to find a suitable answer.
“Why?”
“Because they’re a little shellfish.”
Ghost stared at infinity for a second while a stupid smile formed on his lips.
“And you say my jokes are bad.”
“I’ve another one.”
“Tell me.”
“What happened to the lion that ate a piece of soap?”
Simon was silent. Was that an analogy? He was the lion and John the soap? He wasn’t trying to eat his mate… was he? Ghost envisioned a scene he hadn’t expected and instantly closed his eyes, shaking his head.
Fuckin’ Scottish bastard.
“Your brain is fried and I still haven’t finished telling you the joke.”
Soap’s mocking voice brought him back to reality.
“Excuse me, I thought I heard a noise around here. False alarm,” he added quickly. “Tell me, what happened to the lion?”
“Now he’s a puma.”
He closed his eyes again and stifled a small laugh. It had been a very bad joke.
“Not bad,” he admitted.
“But you laughed.”
“At all.”
“Come on, Lt., the radio captures things better than you think. Fuck!”
“What the hell…? Freeze!” The voice of a Shadow yelled. “Attention, Shadows! There’s one near the church!”
Heart pounding, Ghost searched for Soap. When he located him, he fired without hesitation. The Shadow that was aiming at John fell to the ground, dead. Simon allowed himself the luxury of seeing if his partner was okay before moving the weapon to take down two more Shadows.
“Holy shit…” John whispered into the radio and Simon felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “Was it you, Ghost?”
He snorted.
“Who else?” He replied. “Come on, let’s move. You’re almost there.”
A noise behind him startled him. Ghost put the rifle to his back and drew the pistol. He checked that it’s loaded and waited. Simon heard gunshots down in the plaza and feared for Soap, yet he couldn’t be distracted now. His life depended on being attentive. A few minutes later, a group of Shadows appeared in the room and Ghost shot two of them. A third he pushed out of a window and a fourth he stabbed in the throat. He left the tower and started down the stairs quickly. He fired at three more Shadows and reloaded the gun.
“Ghost, do you copy?”
Soap’s calm voice reassured him enough to know he was okay.
“I’ve got company at church, Johnny,” he replied, firing twice more, “and I doubt they’ll come to confession. Go to the stairs, I’ll see you there.”
“Roger, Lt.”
He sensed that Soap wanted to say something else, however, he must have thought better of it and kept silent. Maybe he was too busy trying to get out of the shooting alive, just like him.
The stairs were over there.
He ran down the ground floor of the church, turning only to fire, and out the front door. On the other side of the gate, he saw Soap. He breathed a sigh of relief and took a running run to jump over the grating. His partner opened fire, knocking out three Shadows. Simon took advantage of some boxes to push himself up and go over the fence, reuniting with Soap. Ghost glanced at him to make sure he was fine, except for a wound on his right arm, and he headed downstairs.
Of course he lied when he said he wasn’t hurt.
“Keep your eyes open, Johnny,” he commanded. “They know that we are here… and that it’s us. They’ll send more men, so you’ve to be prepared.”
“Okay, let’s find a vehicle and get out of here.”
They positioned themselves behind a car and Ghost looked at Soap. He was smiling. Of course John was smiling, when did he not have one on his lips? He had a smile for almost any situation and, in those moments, Soap was giving him encouragement; telling him that everything would be fine. He was saying it to him .
Fucking Scottish bastard , he growled, nodding at him and stepping out of cover.
Someone fired from the left and they returned fire almost blindly, taking cover behind a van. Ghost looked around quickly until he saw a truck just up the road. The lights were on, which was a good sign. That could mean that, apart from having a battery, there was a high probability that it also had the keys in it.
“Soap, truck right ahead.”
“I see it!”
“I drive.”
They ran toward it and Ghost opened the driver’s door. He pulled the corpse out of the seat and checked to see if the keys were in it. He sighed in relief and closed the door, waiting for his partner to get into the car with him. He started the engine as Soap got in next to him.
“Alright, Johnny,” he congratulated him. “You made it”.
Soap turned to look at him and composed his sly smile, that one he had begun to appreciate.
“ We made it, Lt.” He pointed out.
Ghost outlined a half smile under his mask. He didn’t last long as a burst of shots ricocheted off the chassis of the vehicle. Soap spun around, gun pointed, and Simon stepped into the clutch. He put it in reverse and turned around to get a better look.
“Hold on!”
He ran over the two Shadows that were shooting and braked. Soap laughed.
“That’s a good way to do it!” He said, looking at him. John looked away from him and drew the gun again. “Get back!”
Ghost struck to the seat and Soap fired, taking down another enemy. He looked at his partner, who still had the gun in the air, and noticed how the corner of his own lips turned into a small smile. At the same time, he felt a slight warmth in his chest, something familiar but distant at the same time. Something he hadn't felt in many years. Something that, perhaps, was not so bad.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
John turned to Ghost and smiled at him for a second. Soap patted his shoulder and turned in the seat, facing the rear of the vehicle.
“Drive, I shoot!”
Ghost nodded and floored the accelerator, taking down a couple of market stalls and an awkwardly parked car. Soap fired a couple of times before sitting up better in the seat. Simon glanced at him. He was smiling as he looked out the window. The bastard was smiling again and, worst of all, he was too. It wasn’t a smile like his, it wasn’t even a full smile. Perhaps, from the outside, it was perceived as a grimace. But for someone like Ghost, who hadn’t smiled in over ten years, it was enough.