Never say die.

Captain John Mactavish wasn't scared to die. Sure, he hadn't planned on doing it any time soon, but still that didn't mean that he actively feared it. After all, in a lot of ways, it was his job.

But that didn't mean he was going to give up in a hurry. Especially not right now. Because dying in the line of duty was one thing. Dying on the global most wanted list, now that was something else.

Even if all that was keeping him alive right then was a piece of corrugated iron and an AK 47.

Slowly peering out from cover, Mactavish fired a stream of bullets over his head blind, hoping that it would at least buy him a little time to think. Think. He laughed darkly. It had been Price's thinking that had got him into this mess. They should have known better than to trust the scratchy intel they'd managed to scrape together, but at the time they'd been grasping at straws. Very short straws. Since a good deal of people still wanted them dead. Killing a high profile "hero" like Shepherd had hardly helped their image after all.

And so here they were, another suicide mission, another last ditch attempt to save themselves, to stop the war, to save the world…in reality Mactavish wasn't quite sure what they were actually fighting for. He knew who he wanted. Makarov. Hung from a tree. Preferably by his testicles.

Shepherd had only been the start.

Which brought them here, in a desperate attempt to gather supplies. They'd intercepted a military comm. system nearby and had worked out that there was an ammo dump in the area which sounded weakly defended. The plan had been a pincer movement, involving one hell of a lot of C4 and the element of surprise, allowing them to get in, grab what weaponry they could, and then get out of there as fast as possible.

In reality of course, things were quite different. There were far more men on the base than either of them anticipated, and in the skirmish that had followed the C4 explosion, Mactavish had found himself pinned down by gunfire. He was cornered and running out of ideas fast.

Blind firing again, Mactavish glanced around quickly, painfully aware that the voices from in front of him were gradually getting closer and closer. By now they would have realised that he was alone and would be moving to flank him. He paused, scanning his surroundings and desperately wracking his brain. He literally had minutes until he would be unceremoniously cut to shreds by machine gun fire…

…Or a grenade. There was a dull thud as the object hit the sand behind him, sitting within its own crater. Now it really was do or die. In a desperate attempt to save himself Mactavish sprinted left, his eyes trained on a stacked pile of crates that would at least offer a short amount of cover. The action was not unnoticed by his pursuers, and a flurry of machine gun fire erupted around him. Mactavish felt a dull pain begin to rise up from his calf, followed by a hot sting in his right hand, causing his limp fingers to drop the AK 47 that he felt so dependent upon. His left hand side also beginning to burn with pain, Mactavish crawled the last few inches to safety, realising that minutes had now become seconds before his very eyes. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the blood that was beginning to stain his combat attire Soap reached down to his hip, his fingers closing tightly around his desert eagle pistol.

A figure appeared from around the edge of the crates, and Mactavish levelled his pistol, shooting almost instantly. The figure crumpled, but was soon replaced by another, and Mactavish fired another shot, catching his assailant in the throat this time, their hands clasped around their neck as they fell. His surroundings fell unnaturally quiet, and Soap edged forward, his good left hand making a grab for one of the fallen men's rifles. But as he did so, another soldier appeared out of nowhere, stamping down on his left wrist almost out of instinct. A sharp kick to the chest hurled him backwards, leaving him winded and staring point blank down the barrel of a rifle. He'd been too slow. Watching the end of the gun intently, Soap weighed up whether or not he should radio Price, at least give him some indication of his failure. But as he watched the soldier take aim, Mactavish realised he was all out of time.

This was it. After all their hard work, and he was still going to die a traitor…

There was a gunshot, and for a split second Mactavish was left wondering why the hell he was alive enough to have heard it. That was until he realised that the single shot had come from a sniper's rifle and not a machine gun. The gun barrel disappeared from sight as its owner dropped to his knees, his breathing rasped and fading. From behind the crates Soap could hear shouts and exclamations, before another sequence of loud, yet calculated gunshots forced their way through the air. Glancing to his right, Mactavish's eyes fell upon a dusty ridge not that far away, where a figure, dressed only in black was making their way down, their movements quick yet constantly aware of their surroundings. Groaning, Soap tried to focus on the figure as they ran towards him, but his vision was hazy, the adrenaline in his system beginning to lose its potency. As the figure grew larger and closer, Soap was blinking back too much pain to properly look at them, his vision obscured and darkened by the constant flutter of his own eyelashes.

"…Price?" Mactavish managed to groan, his brain too fuzzy to remember that Price was working his way into the base from the opposite side of the compound.

"Close." The figure's accent was heavy, yet the pounding in Soap's ears made him barely even aware that it existed. "Price is hard as nails, yeah." The figure laughed softly. "But you know what they say. You just can't seem to kill a ghost."

Mactavish's eyes snapped open. Now he was listening.

So what do you think? I know that there are already going to be gaping huge plot holes but still...isn't that worth bringing back Ghost? :P

This is my first dive into the fandom too, so please, go easy on me if you do hate it...

S -x-