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Summary
“Steaming Jesus, these cunts got me fer good. Bloody-.”
Ghost freezes.
He knows that voice.
Squatting, he quickly grips the man’s helmet and gets it off for him.
A bloodied, bruised but achingly familiar face greets him underneath and cusses him out.
“Could’ve warned a man at least yeah?”
“Johnny?”
—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—
Riding back home while on forced leave, Ghost becomes an involuntary participant of a chase.
Turns out that the biker that crashed is strikingly familiar.
Ghost and Soap are forced to work together even on leave to find out who tried to kill Soap, and perhaps Ghost enjoys that his days don't feel as dull as they did before.
Not that he’s going to say it.