Disclaimer: I do not own Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

Freefall
by. Poisoned Scarlet

4a

Why did I hang out with these faggots again? Soul brooded, watching one of them wrangle another down to the floor, the others laughing uproariously at their mock fight. He heaved a sigh, sitting back in his booth, tapping his fingers to a silent beat on the worn leather.

So far, many of his old friends had come up to talk to him. It was mainly casual things, such as how life had been and what he had been up to, and it usually ended in the other person walking away in disinterest given his short replies; as usual, only this time he had a reason for it.

He did not want to be there, that much was obvious to any bystander. He'd rather be at home watching a movie or playing some video games or maybe sifting through the new bands he'd have to interview soon...

Why had he listened to Maka again?

Because she had an unnerving way of getting him to listen to her, that's why.

He told himself it was because getting chopped on the head with a book was agonizing.

He only partially believed that.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Soul looked up to a pair of baggy cargo pants, a torso bandaged heavily along with parts of her face. He could catch glimpses of the old burn scars she bore underneath when she shifted, her short dreadlocks hiding the rest by her forehead. Her dark brown eyes glittered with amusement, as he remembered them to.

She hadn't changed a bit in all these months.

"Soul Eater! Here I thought you decided you were too cool to hang out with us anymore." Mira Nygus jabbed, smirking underneath the heavy load of bandages. She was a tall woman, built like a soldier with her muscled arms and toned abdomen and strict attitude. But she was a good friend; one of the few who hadn't abandoned him when he'd been struck with that knife across the chest. "What've you been up to? Haven't seen you around for a while, kid."

"Well, y'know, when you're as cool as me, everyone wants a piece of you." Soul drawled, earning a chuckle from the woman.

"Arrogant as ever, I see." Nygus mused. She slipped her platter under her arm, shifting into a more comfortable position. The restaurant that doubled as a bar was as raucous as ever; laughter and chatter exploding from all ends. "What have you really been up to? And don't bring up your job: we both know you'd rather sleep all day than deal with that shit."

Soul stretched in his seat, nonchalant. "Just the usual stuff. Been here and there."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Boldly, he stated: "Maybe I don't wanna' answer your question."

"You usually have no problem answering them." Nygus flatly said, but Soul remained unfazed. Her voice lowered. "Something up?"

"Nope."

Nygus, by now, was frowning underneath her bandages. Soul could tell by the creases in the white linen. "Well, I'm not one to pry. Whatever you're up to now is your own business. You're not longer apart of the family, after all."

Soul scowled at that. The gang hadn't been much of a family to him; more like a part-time job, something to do when he had absolutely nothing else to take his time. Which had been often, as he refused to touch a piano until his father got off his sack. That didn't happen any time soon, so he reserved all his time for the jobs that needed to be done within the criminal ring.

She suddenly chuckled, as a funny thought crossed her mind. "You're being awfully secretive, though. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you finally got yourself a girl and you don't want us to know about her."

Silence reigned – not the casual ha ha that's funny silence but something loaded; strained.

Her astonishment was clear in the way her brows rose beyond her hairline and the platter nearly fell from under her arm.

"You're kidding."

"I didn't say anything."

"Wait a second, when did you start dating again?" Nygus demanded, squinting at him. "Thought you swore off girls after the last one."

Soul ground his teeth in annoyance. "I never said I swore off girls. I just said I wouldn't make the same mistake again." He didn't like thinking, much less talking, about that waste of time. Although he had been let off easy, as he hadn't cared for her enough to really get hurt, the entire idea of being used for ones income and social status hadn't settled well with him. Also factoring in that his last girlfriend had the balls to flirt around with other guys while he sat right there, watching; irritated she even had the nerve to do so.

He hadn't dated for the simple reason that he hadn't found someone worthwhile, interesting, different... until now.

And they weren't even dating.

At least, Soul didn't think so. Maka was very ambiguous about their entire relationship, often changing the topic when he brought it up. He hadn't pushed it, content with what they had, but now he was beginning to second-guess himself about the stability of their strange relationship.

"Who is she?"

"None of your business."

"Is that who you've been spending all your time with?"

"Fuck off."

Nygus grinned, pleased with herself. "You can't hide it from me, Soul. I've known you since you were fresh out of high school! I know that look."

"What look?" Soul snapped, fixing his friend with a hard stare. But Nygus remained unfazed by his glower, going as far as leaning against the table and placing her chin in her palm thoughtfully. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whoever this girl is, she must be a real piece of work if she managed to nab you of all people." Nygus commented offhandedly, watching him carefully for anything that might give him away. And, boy, had that girl really softened him up. Nygus caught the twitch of his lip, the lightening of his eyes, instantly.

Normally, Soul would have remained impassive. There would be nothing that would indicate he had even heard you. His poker face was admirable, at most. So this sudden flash of emotion piqued her curiosity: the Soul she knew was a cunning, twisted, bastard who was able to con any one out of their cash faster than they could use up their 160 characters on their precious phones.

It was what made him so useful to many ally gang leaders: the charisma the kid had was insane, his way with words impressive. He was also flexible, able to execute many jobs without much trouble, and combined with Black Star, who was just as cunning (if not more) and packed with years of weight training and mixed martial arts, they were a formidable duo.

The brains of the operation, the brawns who always botched it. Nygus chuckled to herself, remembering those easier, yet more dangerous, years. Soul sure had grown since then, having given up his rank a few months after the accident, and turned officially to his day job at the record company.

Nygus let her eyes stray to his chest, to the scar she knew was underneath his shirt. She remembered trying to stop the bleeding but it had still run down his pants – his shoes, the cement, the edge of that knife – and that pained, ridiculous, grin on his face when he rasped, "I guess I won't be goin' to Vegas with you guys after all" before he lost consciousness and Black Star lost it.

Whoever this girl was, Nygus told herself, she was something special because Soul "Eater" Evans did not fold so easily; not after all the shit he had been through, he didn't.

"Whatever. I'm outta' here. This isn't my scene anymore." Soul looked distastefully at the roughhousing taking place somewhere by the bar area. He only caught loud claps and roars of laughter every time one of them was pinned. "Catch you later, mummy face."

"Watch it! Just 'cause you're not with us anymore doesn't mean I can't beat on you." Nygus shot back with a friendly wave. "Don't be a stranger – bring that girl with you next time, will you? I'd like to meet her."

Soul paused, shouting over his shoulder: "Like hell! You'll scare the shit out of her. She isn't built for this type of place!"

"Well, if she's going out with you, she's gotta' have some backbone, right?"

Soul inwardly agreed with her.

4b

It had only been two days at most.

And he had already run out of patience for his hyperactive friend.

"Shut the fuck up, Black Star!" Soul exploded, sending him a nasty look he only ignored. Black Star continued to ramble full-speed about the new set of swords that Tsubaki's father would send him for training. "I don't care about some dumb sword – how the hell did you even convince him to let you borrow them? They sound expensive... and old. And old stuff is usually worth a lot. I would know, half the shit at my parents house is worth thousands."

"Tsubaki told him about my clan and it convinced him to let me borrow them." Black Star boasted. "The Star clan is pretty big over there, y'know? Combat-wise, anyway. We're the best of the best, as expected." He grinned, cockily. "No one can beat us! Hyahaha!"

"Of course." Soul rolled his eyes. "Anyway, when are the swords comin' in?"

"Oh, so now you're interested, huh? I knew you were listening – man, they're so awesome! Tsubaki's dad is the shit – he's got all of these other weapons, too, like chain scythes and machetes! I wanna' get my hands on that Katana, though..." He grinned, clenching his hand in anticipation. "It looks just right for someone as amazing as me..."

"Yeah, yeah, just answer my question already." Soul yawned, reclining on the couch as his friend started up his PS3. "Before I fall asleep."

"Nu uh! You ain't falling asleep! You're playing me. You ready to eat shit, Soul?" Black Star tossed him a controller and Soul flicked the joystick idly, not in the mood for video games. Instead, his eyes strayed to the clock and he wondered, absently, what Maka was doing at the moment; what time it was over there; how she was adjusting. He had sent her off with an uncomfortable twist in his gut, as he thought of the possible turmoil she could sink into should her meeting with her mother not go as expected.

She still hadn't called.

He hadn't tried.

And calling a girl just to check up with her sounded so lame...

"Hey! Are you playing or not?"

"What game?"

"Modern Warfare."

"Nah, that games so overplayed it's not even funny." Soul yawned widely and sunk deeper into the couch, deciding to prop his legs up on the armrest as well. He might as well make himself comfortable; it wasn't as if he had any other place to be at the moment. "It got too mainstream. It's not cool anymore."

"What're you talking about? This game was built for gods!" Black Star cackled, scrolling through a few options on the screen. He selected one player mode, knowing Soul wasn't going to join when he was in his, as he dubbed them, 'sissy moods'. "You just can't appreciate it since you're not as great as me!"

"The question, Black Star?" Soul prompted, reminding him of his unanswered question about when the swords would come in. "I'm already fallin' asleep..."

"Huh, what're you talkin' about?" Black Star blinked, having already forgotten. "What question?"

"Forget it." He sighed. After a second or two, he asked: "Hey, what's up between you and Tsubaki? Finally got over when I told you she didn't mean it like that?"

Black Star's mood embittered instantly, his spirit for gaming deflating. He spat out: "She's my friend. She made it clear the first day we met – there's nothing going on between us. She just got a few words mixed up, that's all... but I bet she wishes we were something, I mean, c'mon!" He added, arrogantly. "Who doesn't want me?"

Soul gave him a leveled look before turning on his back.

"Bet that's what you want." Soul mumbled, closing his eyes.

Black Star, for once, did not reply.