A/N: PRIDE... this one was a little difficult, but not too hard. I know a lot of you are expecting me to struggle with SLOTH, but I have a concept for that one already... This one was just a pain in the ass because I wasn't sure how to end it right... I still don't think I pulled it off, but I'm technically working three jobs this week (I'm just glad I'm out of class on spring break) and I'm totally fucking exhausted.
Angel of the Godless: Yes, the anon flamer was dutifully ignored... Though I am a little miffed that they would go steal the names of others... But anyway! I enjoy working the realism into things because without realism, what is it? Useless and painful drivel, that's what! I'm glad you found Crazy(!) Roach believable. That one took a little bit of working, just because no one knows anything about him. I have actually beaten campaign at least two dozen times just to watch the NPC's interact and listen to the dialogue and the cutscenes to make sure I have them as close to in character as they can be. My brother thinks I'm a freak. XD But I'm glad my updates make you so happy.
yeah-bled: Awh. Thanks for that. I'm working on a book... I just need to find the willpower to stop procrastinating. XD
GothicBandicoot: Thanks. :3
PhonyPrincess: Oh, it would be awesome... But for now, I'm going to stick to the whole ranking system they have in place. For the moment, Soap will be the dominating personality... But I have an idea or three where Ghost turns the tables... /evil grin.
xania: Well, while playing through "Loose Ends" Ghost is off sniping with Toad and Archer, so I have to assume he's pretty damn good at what he does. And, unfortunately, the URL for the translations didn't come through. FanFiction doesn't like you putting other websites on their websites. :/ Just tell me if it was (dot)com or (dot)net or whatever. I have to see this. My posts have finally gone bilingual!!!! Thanks for that. Thanks A TON!!
MissPumpkinHead: I worked on making that one hot, probably harder than I should have. XD And I like including outside information like that, because I think that it's important to do your research on a topic, even if it's "just" FanFiction. That and it's totally badass to be able to do shit like shoot between heartbeats. XD
Astaldo Ungol: Pft. Are you kidding me? I fangirl squeel everytime I get a review, even after doing this for four years (Christ I'm getting old...). And yes, there has been talk of spin-off's and specialized DLC... I almost got into a fist fight with my brother because I wanted to buy Ghost's outfit for my Xbox 360 Avatar and he didn't want to spend that many Microsoft points. Needless to say, parental involvement settled the match and I still don't have the Ghost outfit. -_-' I'm still looking for the comics, but I have an idea of where I might be able to find them... I just have to look into it. And don't worry about rambling reviews. They really make me happy. Truth be told, I enjoy the longer reviews more... ... ... Dammit... Now I feel like a mother who just picked a favorite child in front of all the other children. XD But thanks for the review. :3
The thing about the pain was that it was somewhere between blindingly hot and biting cold, like one of those things "so cold it burns". Soap shuddered and looked down at his chest with a grimace. The pain was enough to make him nauseous and he wondered what had gone wrong. He pressed his hand to the bleeding wound and hissed at the pain.
"Soap! Where the fuck are you?" The English lilt had never before sounded so comforting as it pushed through the harsh crackling static of their communication systems.
"I ducked into a movie store on the left side of the street." Soap rasped. There was a pause on the other end and John knew what was going on.
"How bad is it?" Ghost finally asked. Trust Simon to know when something was wrong.
"Bad. Just hurry up and get over here."
John looked down at the hole in his chest again and he cringed. Christ... What had gone wrong? He tilted his head back and rested it against the rough concrete wall behind him. His eyes closed and he began to watch the instant replay flash behind his eyelids.
"Ghost! You and Roach move up the left side!" John yelled.
There were too many enemies and not enough cover. Too many bullets, and too many of them headed in the direction of the one-four-one members. John was pressed against a low barrier, waiting for the AK fire to at least slow down a little.
"MacTavish! We have a route to this side!" Ghost called through the comms.
"Hold your position! I'm coming up the right side!"
"Soap, don't do anything stupid and--"
"Cut the chatter, Ghost."
John released the mic that laid around his throat. The conversation was done. There was a break in the firing and he stole out into the street firing his weapon in controlled bursts and trying his damndest to keep as much cover between him and the enemy as possible. Bullets slammed into the wall near him as the Tangos fired blindly in his direction. He ducked into a small house and waited for a break in the hailstorm of bullets. He stuck his head through the opening in the door and nearly lost it as at least half a magazine whizzed by his head, far too close for comfort. He retreated back into the house and dashed up the stairs. The vantage point here was better. Ghost had no reason to be worried. He was more than capable of handling himself in this situation.
After eliminating the targets, Soap hurried down the stairs and exited the house, returning to the street. He pressed forward. He could clear this street out just fine on his own and then they wouldn't have to worry about being flanked while they were making their escape. The fewer loose ends, the better off they were. He picked up movement in his peripheral vision and he turned in time to catch an enemy reloading. He solved the problem in a single controlled burst.
"Soap! Where the hell are you?" Ghost demanded.
"I'm on my way. Just keep your head down and make sure Roach does the same!"
MacTavish ducked into a side alley and pressed his back against the rough brick, taking comfort in the knowledge that no one would be able to sneak up on him. He quickly reloaded his MP5K and took a deep breath. He walked back out into the street and scanned it quickly. He didn't have time for surprises, but then again, he could handle any sort of surprise that could be thrown at him.
CLINK.
Soap stopped for a brief moment. He knew that sound. He would know it anywhere. He had heard it enough times to know that sound; heard it enough times to know exactly what it meant. He quickly scanned the rubble-strewn street, looking for the death wrapped in a metal sphere. He couldn't see it... Fuck... Where had it landed? Where would be a safe zone? A thousand thoughts in the blink of an eye. He ducked into the nearest open door, but it was too late.
The grenade had cooked for two of the necessary three seconds before it had been thrown. He'd spent one and a half seconds thinking and looking for it. The explosion sent shock waves through the air, kicking dust and gravel into the air and in all directions. Shrapnel embedded itself in the crumbling walls and exposed wooden support beams of the building. Soap coughed violently in a vain attempt at dislodging small bits of debris and a large amount of dust from his lungs. He reached for his dropped weapon and fell short with a pained cry. Of course he was wounded. And it didn't look pretty. But the thing about the pain was that it was somewhere between blindingly hot and biting cold, like one of those things "so cold it burned".
John forced his eyes open. He needed to stay alert and awake. There was no telling how long his eyes had been closed. The enemy could be just outside the door and he wouldn't know it because he'd been too busy half-sleeping. There was a sudden burst of gunfire from the street and he sat up straighter. He gripped his weapon with cool determination and kept focused on the open doorway. He had to be ready. Footsteps kicked rubble aside and MacTavish didn't recognize them. It sounded odd, but he knew what it sounded like when Ghost and Roach walked. Roach walked heavy, heel first, typical of an American Army ground-pounder(1). Ghost's footsteps were echoes of footsteps, almost not there, calculated, measured, even, on time, sticking to the same tempo, without fail. These didn't belong to his men.
The man had only just appeared in the doorway when Soap pulled the trigger. A few stray bullets landed in the wall near his head and showered him with a spray of plaster of Paris or whatever else was holding the dilapidated structure together. It didn't matter. He didn't register the white dust. He felt only agony in his chest and a twisted sense of satisfaction as his would-be-killer fell backwards with anger and confusion in his black eyes. There was a sudden click and John's satisfaction faded. Bullets: gone. Grenades: used. Throwing knives: lost. Tactical knife: not much, but all he had. His hand curled around the handle and he stared at the doorway. He wondered for a moment if he would have been better off listening to Ghost...
"Generostity is giving more than you can, pride is taking less than you need."(2) He needed ammunition. He needed cover. He needed help, but he wouldn't admit that. He pushed himself up a little straighter and bit his hand hard to stifle a scream. There was definitely about a kilo of shrapnel sitting between his lungs... He coughed and his faded black glove was stained dark in spots from fresh blood. The pain and the bloodloss were making him feel dizzy and lightheaded. He took a few choking breaths and forced himself to stay with it. His eyes began to close and lose focus and he fought against the sensation.
A sharp accent cut through the haze and he looked up. Light brown eyes, almost a tawny yellow. Elfin features. Sloppily cut black hair. Sergeant Sanderson.
"He's responsive." Roach muttered. He gently peeled Soap's hand away from the wound and blanched. Ghost took a look and cringed.
"You're always getting yourself into these impossible situations and then you insist that you can handle yourself." Ghost growled. He pulled a wad of gauze from his pack and kept the gentility to a minimum as he shoved it against the wound. Soap grunted in response and his vision blacked around the edges.
"Not now, Simon." John ordered weakly.
The conversation halted abruptly, but it was clear that it would continue later. They made it a point to argue in private, mostly because Ghost's cool demeanor ensured he looked at the situation from all points and therefore had all his bases covered, which meant Soap usually ended up losing. Riley pushed his sunglasses up and looked at the wound in his lover's chest.
"Riley, he's looking kinda pale." Roach murmured.
"That tends to happen when you're stupid and get yourself blown up; you suffer blood loss and shock." Ghost muttered.
"Not now, Simon." Soap repeated.
They helped Soap to his feet and started dragging him through the streets towards the path cleared earlier. Every step brought a new wave of agony to crash over Soap, and he choked and gasped as they moved. He leaned heavily on Roach, trusting Ghost more to watch their backs and eliminate threats. He was pleasantly surprised when the coast was clear.
"I bloody told you to come up the right side." Ghost muttered, as if he could sense the Captain's thoughts.
"Riley, shut the fuck up." Soap ordered.
He decided that nothing had ever looked more inviting than the AC130 that was going to give them a ride home. Except for maybe the needle of morphine they managed to find for him.
"You can't do it all by yourself, no matter how hard you try."
Soap rolled his eyes. It hadn't even been two days since "the grenade incident" and he was already geting lectured.
"Thanks for the reminder." John muttered dryly.
Riley closed his eyes and kept his temper in check. John's pride was always in the way. It didn't matter what they were doing, he had to do it bigger, better, faster, and on his own.
"Stop being so fucking stubborn!" The bitter comment cut through the air as sharply as the accent(3).
John turned his attention to Gary, who was leaning awkwardly against the wall. It was a not-so-well-kept secret that he had the hots for the Captain. And the Lieutenant. He was there to make sure the two of them didn't rip each other to shreds.
"Watch your tone, Sergeant." Soap warned.
Roach rolled his eyes and muttered something to himself about ranks and moving through them(4).
"Sanderson, why don't you step outside for a moment." Ghost's tone left no room for question. It wasn't a request. It was just an order without the yelling.
Roach slipped out of the room and closed the door behind himself. Riley sat down on the edge of the Captain's bed and kissed him almost gently, mindful of the various tubes and machines and the painfully obvious patched hole in his lover's chest.
"There were about fifteen minutes on that AC130 where I thought I'd never get to do that again."
It was unspoken, but still there; there had been a moment or three where Simon had been scared. Scared John would die. John nodded. He would never apoligize, but he would at least make an attempt at more caution and less pride, but only so he'd never have to hear that tone in Riley's voice again.
(1): They never specified Roach's military branch or even what country he's from, and I figured this would work somehow, seeing as how Sheperd works with the US Army frequently, I decided: Why the hell not? :3
(2): The quote is by Khalil Gibran, not me.
(3): I know I keep mentioning his accent as "sharp", and I know a lot of you are going to wonder what I mean by that, and it's simple: I'm an American girl with a serious accent fetish. Like, a serious accent fetish, espeically when concerned with the UK/Australia. And the fact of the matter is this: When I listen to a Scottish accent (like Soap's), there are certain syllables that just sound softer. It's hard for me to describe. But if you have a Scot say something and then an American say the same thing, the American accent just sounds sharper and harsher to me... Anwyay...
(4): Yes, this is me, tooting my own horn and giving a throwback to my own story. Greed follows us everywhere... XD