Authors Note: Hey Guys, whats up? This is my first Call Of Duty fanfiction, based around two of my favorite characters, Ghost and Roach. I'm not entirely happy with this first chapter- I wrote it pretty darn early in the morning- despite my revisions. So, sorry if its not too good. It takes place during the end of The Hornet's Nest and before the next mission (Which I can't recall, its been awhile). So, if there's something that seems off, don't get too picky, since it's been ages since I've played MW2. Tell me what you think and if I should continue. Thanks guys, enjoy!

Disclaimer; I do not own the Call of Duty franchise what so ever, if I did I would be filthy rich. So yep~


My heart was racing, pounding like drums in my ears, adrenaline pumping madly through my veins. The intense heat didn't help the situation- just made it that much worse. You could hear them shouting madly below us in some foreign language- trying to shoot us down as what was left of our team stampeded across the rooftops of the Favela, racing to the LZ. You could hear every single bullet whiz past your brain, like a hornet darting past your head at a thousand miles a minute, the smell of smoke and burning gunpowder filling your nostrils. The disturbing thing about that?

You could have been down with a piece of lead in your body not at that very moment, cold and lifeless.

"My friend, from up here, it looks like the whole village is trying to kill you!" A Russian voice boomed over the headset, directed towards the captain.

"Tell me something I don't know! Just be ready to pick us up!" Soap yelled over the enemy fire, racing to the second LZ. The first was under too much enemy fire for Nikolai to land safely. The fact we had to go to a new LZ didn't matter to me.

What mattered to me was that the rest of us got back to base, and hope we never returned to this god forsaken place.

No matter how much our lungs burned, how much we ached, we didn't stop running- we couldn't. If we did we'd be over run and all die-or worse. I've heard rumors of what they do to you, and I never, ever want to go through that hell and die in their hands. If I die, I want it to be fighting for my country, not to some cold-hearted Militia members, crying out for mercy.

How many fucking militia members were here anyways? There seemed to be no end to them, every time one dropped, one seemed to appear out of nowhere and take their place, as the man wasn't dying but simply dropping down behind cover, then back up.

Judging by how many were here, and how many rockets and bullets were flying our way, I was pretty sure these guys didn't even care about Rojas's death, or the fact we got more Intel on Makarov, they just wanted us dead, our blood imprinting the ground as a marker for our deaths. After their first two kills, it seemed they turned into a shark, getting a little taste of blood. The slightest taste and they were in a frenzy, wanting more and more and more till they couldn't possibly take anymore, and wait for their next drop, their next victim.

Weren't two pairs of tags enough for them already? Wasn't the satisfaction that they just lowered out ranks by two and made me watch my two best friends in the rank die by their hands enough?

The second LZ was dead ahead, the helicopter already in sight,getting ready to drop in the air by the building, so we could get out of the Favela as quickly as possible. Just a few more rooftops and we would be safe inside it. We could go back to base, for at least a little while, and recover. That sounded nice. Maybe we won't even have a mission for a while, after everything Ive seen that would make my day.

I was bringing up the rear, Soap a few paces up ahead. We were almost there, we were so close, you could just barely feel the blades spitting wind in our direction, stirring up dust and dirt settled on the rooftops. As we headed into the next roof, he began shouting.

"We're almost there! Just a little bit-"

Crack!

It took me a few mere moments to figure out what was happening.

...There's nothing beneath my feet...

...What happened to the roof?

What happened to the goddamn roof!?

Panic struck as I began to fall, and I felt paralyzed. Not that I couldn't move. You know, that kind where you're so scared, so afraid, that you can't scream or cry or shout. All you can do is sit there like a man with his mouth sewn shut, only able to scream through his eyes, filled with intense horror, as if you've just seen your worst nightmare come to life right before your eyes.

In that split second where I began to fall, as I was descending to what I assumed would be my demise, I saw a familiar face peer over the hole, reached his outstretched hand as far it would reach with out him tumbling down after me, trying to grab me. I reached my own hand up, and everything felt like it slowed down.

Our hands got closer...

I'm not going to die

...And closer...

I can go back with Ghost

...And closer still...

...I can tell him how I really feel.

A slight sense of relief, just the slightest, fills me as I feel my hand brush his, and clasp tightly, each breath shaky, still shocked at the events that just occurred. I wasn't dead.

For the moment.

My heart beat feels like its increased tenfold, and I'm still in a wave a panic, dangling a few stories above the bottom of the building. Trying to calm down, I look up at the lieutenant's face, covered by his intimidating mask and sunglasses, dark as night, beginning to fall off.

I could barely see his eyes behind them. Not the color, sadly, but I now at least know he had some sort of eyes.

"Don't let go, please don't let go," I hear myself plead, feeling tears forming in my eyes. I hated crying, no one else in the Task Force cried but me. And every time someone caught me, I'd usually be picked on and be called a baby. Most of time it was Royce or Meat. But, I didn't care, I was so terrified. I don't want to be the third on this mission, I don't want to die. And he knows it, he knows how scared I am and he sees those tears in my eyes, just by the way he's acting.

"I got you bug, don't worry," The British man said as calmly as he could, but you could just barely near the panic in his own voice as he began grasping tighter, "I won't let go, I promise. Just hold on, I'll get you up!"

Ghost quickly began trying to pull me out, calling out to Soap for help as he struggled. Slowly, I find myself being lifted out, little by little, thoughts rushing through my head wildly.

I'm not going to die, I can fight another day

I won't be the third casualty

I can go home when this is wars over

Everything's going to be okay

"Almost there," he shouted above the sound of bullets, ripping through the air like a knife, "Just one more quick min-"

He stops mid sentence, and freezes as if he were a statue, lifeless in every way. I had no clue why he stopped, and I get anxious, and start calling his name quietly, finding myself unable to shout. I barely make out Soap shouting his name as Ghost began slowly coughing and sputtering, then it kept getting worse and worse, like a wild fire slowly consuming a forest. Red began to stain his uniform and mask. The realization hits me as soon as his grip loosens, and an even worse wave a terror rolls through me like thunder.

"Ghost!" I managed to scream, so loudly my lungs burned as if they were on fire, and I feel myself crashing through another floor before the light fades to nothing.

The last thing I remember was hearing someone yell Roach, and the skeleton being pulled away from the hole in the roof, and I realize something else.

Ghost, for the first time I think I've ever seen, had a look of severe panic and sorrow in his eyes.

He'd broken his one promise.


Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. Remember, if you want more, leave a review! Also feel free to check out my Left 4 Dead story, His Angel, her Guardian (Chapter 5 coming soon guys c:)

Stay Beautiful/Handsome ;D.