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Chapter 1: A little Bit Demonic Sometimes missions got out of hand and you had to improvise. Your gun was knocked out or broken, your knives were all used, you were taken hostage and had to flee. All kind of fucked up shit was done in that moment. After all, the instinct to survive made human beings quite creative. Ghost had enough experience to know that if it gets down to life and death, morals and all sort of normality gets thrown out the window. He considered himself to have seen most of it if not all. Decapitating people with a barbed wire, gouging eyes, stuffing a branch down someone’s throat, noticeably once, once, even spiking someone. Enough mental images to last at least a dozen horror films. So it was quite hard to faze him. After all you can only see so much bloodshed and gore before your brain receptors dim it down and you see it as just another Tuesday. Apparently thought, he still could be taken aback by … certain things. It was during a retrieving mission that had gone tits up. Someone cocked up. Whether it was the intel or simply a coincidence, their target's backup arrived much earlier than they anticipated.Johnny got flanked on the ground, while Ghost was on one of the rooftops nearby, providing backup as a sniper. The rain was beating at the back of his skull and back, making everything more complicated. His clothing heavy and cold. He was shooting at a steady pace, Soap mirroring him, slicing neck after neck on the ground with one of Ghosts knives, just as he showed him. And that sent a pleasant thrill of something down Simon's spine. That was his knife in Johnny’s hands. His moves, copied and adjusted to be used by the demolitions expert. Then some of the cunts decided to try to bargain with him. Two jumped on Soap catching him off guard while he was busy with another. Ghost managed to snipe the one in front but the other hid behind Johnny, holding him in a one armed choke-hold, silver muzzle of a pistol pressed tightly to his temple. Ghosts blood ran cold for a second before he shut it off. The guy's ugly mug kept peeking out behind Johnny and looking in the direction he was shooting from. Using Johnny as a bloody shield while Ghost finished off the rest. Fucking coward. Simon felt his hands itch to grab his knife and slice it into the man's face. Exfil wouldn't be here for another 30 minutes. No chance to surprise the man then. Ghost cursed the rain and the man’s paranoid jumpiness for making it near impossible to get a clean shot. He kept readjusting when the man decided to try and speak. He heard the poorly concealed fear in the man’s voice through his comm line. “Quit shooting or I’ll kill him!” The man must have been a fool in all his lives as well as this one because when saying this he wildly gestured with his gun towards the roof Ghost was on. This gave Soap the perfect opening and hell's bells did Soap take it. Just not in a way that Ghost expected him too. Swiveling his head to the side the second the muzzle was off his temple Johnny bared his teeth and bit into the arm that was holding off the pistol. Sharp canines sinking into soft flesh, the man’s demand turned into a scream of agony. With the man distracted Johnny gripped his head between his hands and slammed it down on his knee. The man fell to the ground, pistol lying forgotten on the floor while clutching at his hand that Ghost could now see was missing out a solid chunk. The magnitude of things wrong with him seemed to rise tenfold at that moment, or at least Ghost considered that another small piece of sanity left him, because when Johnny turned, pearled whites stained with read, Mohawk disheveled with the rain, eyes looking right at Ghost, and then he smiled, Ghost felt something in him snap. He watched, hyper focused on all of Johnny’s movements as the Scott reached for a small pouch on his vest and spoke through the comms. “Don’t shoot this one yet LT, I wanna finish him off myself.” Ghost had all but forgotten about the guy. He just continued watching as the sergeant picked out some explosives from his pouch, threw them around the warehouse before kneeling down close to the guy who was still screaming and stuffing the last explosive in his mouth. A whole bombing with AGM-65’s could have happened behind Ghost at that moment and he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off Johnny. Finished with the distribution of explosives Johnny stood up and slowly, what Ghost could only describe as sauntered, got out of the building before looking up at Ghost once again and then pressing the button. The warehouse surged up in flames, orange light illuminating the dark sky. Ghost would deny the quickness with which he descended the rooftop at that moment and blame it on the wish to get out of there. He openly stared as he finally neared the sergeant. Because Johnny wasn’t the one who was out for blood. He was efficient, creative, and definitely an explosive enthusiast but it was rare if not even unseen to see him seek out vengeance quite like that. Ghost thought that he could still identify a piece of skull plastered to the side on the wall. He cast another glance at Soap, quietly searching for an explanation but it was a mistake because Soap’s teeth were still painted crimson even if he tried to scrub it off. Looking like some creature of the night, the fire seemed adamant about covering him in a glowing light and Ghost thought that maybe demons were real after all. “The MRE’s not enough for you?” Johnny kipped his head back and laughed. The kind of laugh that was still fueled by the fight, the near death experience and the mission. What a sight they were right now probably. One figure clad in black, white skull glowing in the night, reapers tool in human form. The other painted red, blood still dripping from his chin, head cocked back laughing like a hyena. They’d see them as psychos. They wouldn’t be far off. “Good one Lt. But no.” Johnny finally straightened himself and his tone took a more solemn note, with anger coating the words that came out. “Heard the bastard speaking when in one of the rooms when we were infiltrating. Cocksucker bragged about taking a younger girl, since his daughter had moved away and he couldn’t enjoy her anymore.” Soap briefly turned to the side and spit on the pavement. Shaking his head the manic gleam seemed to slowly seep out of his eyes, his actions catching up to him. “Steaming Jesus.” The exfil was there in 10 minutes. Record time. As they took their seats on the helo Price and Gaz gave Soap's bloodied mouth a worrying look. Soap was oblivious to it as he made himself comfortable near the wall and was out like a light. Seems the near death experience finally got to him. Ghost answered instead. “Not his blood.” It was, Ghost had to admit, a bit amusing to watch their faces relax before another expression of perplexion appeared. Gaz half whispered, though it was completely unnecessary. With the way Soap was able to fall asleep with the helicopters buzzing he wouldn’t be woken up by some words. “Did he maul someone?!” They stared at Ghost, side glancing at the sleeping sergeant on the side. After a pause Ghost shrugged. “Kind of.” When they continued staring, Ghost sighed and elaborated on the… situation. “We got flanked. Their back-up arrived earlier than anticipated. Two jumped on Soap, one managed to use him as a shield from me. But he got brave and thought that taking the gun away from Soap’s temple for a few seconds wouldn’t change anything. So Johnny took a bite out of him.” The pair was quiet, eying the peacefully knocked out man. “Why was the base aflame?” Something akin to a grin formed on Ghost’s lips at that moment, and he was thankful for the mask yet once more since he would probably be sent to the shrink if Price saw him smiling at that. “Soap felt a tad bit vengeful and decided to exercise his demolition weapons a bit.” He left out the part where Soap shoveled a bomb up the man’s mouth. That was for him to know and for him alone. Price didn't need to worry. Gaz’s eyebrows shot up at that while Price let out a huff and commented. “Guess we have to be careful to never keep him too long without food.” They all chuckled at that. The ride was quiet afterwards. Ghost’s mind kept playing the night on repeat. It was definitely going to be circulating in his system for a few more days if not weeks. He regarded the man slumped next to him. If it wasn't for the blood stains still on his chin and neck it would be hard to imagine the peacefull man fucking mauling someone. A brief wish to reach out his hand and brush the drying blood off Johnny’s chin came to him and he had to physically grip his thigh before he actually did that. Bloody hell, where did that come from? He pushed those thoughts away and mentally lighted them up with gasoline. The second they touched down on base he would disappear, visit the showers, and try to sleep. He needed some distance. Some space to… think about the new revelations. As if the gods had heard him and decided to have a laugh, the helicopter jolted at that moment and Soap slowly but surely veered to the side, his head falling on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost went incredibly still. The universe was fucking with him. But no, Soap’s head was definitely resting on his shoulder, warmth emanating and seeping through Ghost’s jacket. Man was a bloody furnace, that's for sure. He should push him away, relocate him on the wall. But then Johnny, still asleep, nestles his head more comfortably on Ghost's shoulder and Ghost resigns to being used as a human pillow for now. Pushing him away and waking him up felt like disturbing a cat having a nap. On the other side of the Heli Gaz was already napping too, slumped to the front, while Price observed Ghost with some mirthful look in his eyes. Ghost wanted to stab the man and his all knowing glances. This was going to be a long ride.
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