A/N: Sin number seven of seven: WRATH. This one takes place during Just Like Old Times and during/after EndGame. Ghost is dead. Soap is pissed. Written while listening to (and kind of inspired by) Placebo's cover of "Running Up That Hill". Hope you guys like it.
GothicBandicoot: Well, it was the kind of thing that my brother and I used to do, and I wanted to make them relatable, so I figured why not just go for it? And I know this update has taken forever, but it's the end of senior year, meaning hella work. -_-'
Astaldo Ungol: Yes, it's true. I have a book idea. I just need to get off my lazy ass and figure out how to get the damned thing started... I even think it's going to hold subtle slash hints (like Anne Rice "subtly" hinted that Lestat fucked Louie and all those other guys XD) And don't worry about dodging imaginary bullets. They can't be bad-asses all the time... One of my brothers is going through training to become a Marine Corps Scout Sniper, and those guys are hella bad ass, but when the time comes, Luke is pretty goddamned tame. o.O And I couldn't refrain from mentioning Ghost again. He just makes me so damn happy when I write him... And I am officially a Gwen-Basher, so it's cool. I'm not sure if I mentioned this before (and I'm too lazy to check XD), but I call my boyfriend "Jack" and he calls me "Ianto". It's kinda cute, actually. :3
yeah-bled: Yes, he's rather understanding... It's pretty funny. And thank you for head-pats. Though I must warn... The easiest way to put me to sleep is to play with my hair. ~.O
greenyfox: Yes, I believe there should be more Soap/Ghost... It's practically fucking cannon. And I'm like you likey.
Sam: It was a little bit of a strech to whore Roach out during GREED, but it could also make sense. And I don't know that I'd necessarily call him naieve, seeing what he does for a living... I was really aiming more for making him so jaded and disenchanted, that he just didn't care anymore, if that makes sense to you. And I enjoy a little plotless smut every now and then, but I agree; there should be more well-written slash for these boys. My problem with "its" and "it's" is mostly I'm typing too damn fast because I'm supposed to be working on homework (right now I'm dodging a term paper for my English course XD). It doesn't help any that I type all of this directly onto FanFiction (go to Document Manager and just reuse the same "document" over and over) and FanFic doesn't look out for stuff like that. This is, of course, a necessity, considering my dad is going to try going through my computer 'til I move out and they're not really comfortable with this type of subject matter... Goddamned Slash-Haters... ANYWAY!!! I'll try to keep an eye on that though. Thanks for pointing it out. :D
PhonyPrincess: I have to get this out of my system because I've been wanting to say this since your first review... "Sorry, Mario. The Princess is in another castle. We do, however, have a Goombah in drag, if you're interested." "...What the hell do I want a phony princess for?!?!" Okay. I'm done. XD Here's WRATH for you, sweets. :3
Three letters that changed the entire course of the war. KIA. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, KIA. Killed by Sheperd. Killed by a traitor. Dead for no reason.
"Sheperd betrayed us." It doesn't sound like me as I say it, but it's all I can think. Sheperd, whom we're supposed to trust until the very end, stabbed us in the back. He started a war against his own country. And for what? Because the Russians paid more than his own fucking country?
"Let Sheperd's men and Makarov's men kill each other as much as you can."
Were it anyone but Price, I would have ignored them and killed everyone in the goddamned plane graveyard. But I don't. I run through the shells of half-demolished planes, shooting only when necessary. The men from both sides ignore me, for the most part.
I hardly hear Nicholai through the comms telling us that the landing zone was too hot. I didn't care about that. The only thing I could bring myself to care about was Makarov's intel.
"Site Bravo. You know the place."
I run with new purpose. We know where Sheperd is hiding and we know how to get to him. All I need is half a chance.
"But the sand and the rocks here, stained with thousands of years of warfare... They will remember us."
It doesn't matter who remembers us, as long as no one can remember Shaperd. I don't care if my blood coats the sand all across the goddamned Afghan desert. As long as his does too.
"Because out of our vast array of nightmares, this is the one we choose for ourselves."
I don't want to choose this one. I'd much rather choose the one where Sheperd wasn't a fucking traitor. The one where I'm on a plane to a friendly American base to regroup with Ghost and Roach to attack Makarov at site bravo
"We go forward like a breath exhaled from the Earth."
A blood-stained breath from the gore-soaked Earth. Ashes to ashes... What better place to kill than in a land where it's become commonplace to murder one another?
"With vigor in our hearts and one goal in sight. We. Will. Kill him."
I don't register Nicholai's conversations with Price as we make our way to the site where Sheperd is hiding, no doubt erasing proof that he was ever anywhere near Simon and Gary. No doubt erasing proof that Price and are are the good guys. And that's the most infuriating part. He has how many years of honorable service backing him? And what do we have? Nothing. He stripped us of our credibility when he named us war-criminals to cover his own tracks. I have nothing but the almost unbearable urge to kill him. And that's all I need. Once he's dead, we will find all the proof we need to show the world what Sheperd had done.
"We will be arriving very soon!"
I leave the acknowledgement to Price and run my gloved fingers across the blade of my tactical knife. It will be what I ultimately kill Sheperd with, but I don't tell Price that.
We're dropped into the middle of the desert with our weapons and our ghillie suits and that's all I need. Price and I cover up and shimmy our way towards the road we know undoubtedly marks the outskirts of Sheperd's patrols. Nicholai leaves us with a final good luck wish and we are truly alone behind enemy lines. Fine.
The first patrol is easy and reminds me of old times. They remind me of the Pripyat and crawling through the grass with Price with nothing on my mind but killing everyone. A long-range rifle and a target in the cross hairs.
I descend on the guards below the cliff, barely secured to the wobbling rail above, my knife in hand. I wait for Price's silent signal and we drop on to our targets. This man whose name will likely be forgotten... His eyes are the color of Scottish moss. A strange thing to notice, but it only serves to remind me that Ghost's blue eyes will never see anything again. I stand and look to Price for orders. Let him make the tough decisions.
We enter the cave where Sheper's operations are being coordinated and we begin our siege.
I clear the rooms with Price, moving quickly through men so jaded by Sheperd's illusions of grandeur, they don't bother looking for someone to attack.
"We just cleared that sector! No one's that--"
"It's them."At least Sheperd knows we're after him.
We enter a large, open space and I'm immediately uneasy. Large spaces mean no cover... Smoke begins to fill the room and I'm glad we attacked at their base of operations. Spare weapons are laying around, weapons conveniently equipped with thermal scopes. Makes me wonder if there isn't someone out there keeping an eye on us...
Price tells me to watch for flanking moves and I follow a corridor around and come up on the enemy flank. I press the scope to my eye and begin firing at the enemies and their exposed sides as they try to fight off the barrage coming from Captain Price, who comes rushing up to meet me once the coast is cleared. We run towards the door, to our way to Sheperd, just in time to see it close.
I place a breaching charge. The place is set to detonate. The egotistical coward doesn't even wait for his own goddamned men to clear the base before he tries blowing it up... We run outside and the world explodes.
More of Sheperd's men, killed by his betrayal. I will find him, and I will kill him, and all in the name of the men he's killed.
"Sheperd mentioned Zodiacs! There must be river access nearby!"
I run past Price and I'm in the boat before he's down the catwalk. He's barely seated before I gun the motor. The sooner we catch up... My hand tightens around the handle of my knife and, for a moment, I can almost taste Riley.
I leave our pursuing Zodiacs in Price's capable hands. My only concern is catching Sheperd and then gutting the bastard for what he did. I ignore the helos and the RPGs and the automatic weapons fire. The only thing I see is the strip of water and the ass-end of Sheperd's Zodiac. He will die for this.
"Hold it steady, Soap!"
I grind my teeth and do as I am told. I will let Price take this shot, if only because we'll die if I let off the motor. I watch, detached, as the helo begins to spin and destabilize.
"Back it up! Back it up!" But it's too late. Full speed to the rear and we're still too close to the edge.
Drowning is painful. Sounds like something that should be obvious, but it's one of the most painful things I've ever experienced. I am content with letting myself sink under, if only to catch a glimpse of Riley in that light at the end of the tunnel.
"You're not done yet, you ugly Scottish bastard. He could have survived. That helo was stable long enough to keep him alive." It sounds like Ghost talking to me, even though I know he will never talk to me again.
I force my eyes open and cough violently as my lungs revolt against the presence of water. My diaphragm contracts painfully and the water is expelled. My weapons are gone. All but one. Good. I will not let him walk away from this, not if he's still able to walk...
The crash site burns bright in the distance, like an orange beacon through the sandstorm, and I move towards it, stumbling over my weakness and nearly dropping my knife. I hear whimpering and look over the berm where I stand. One of the pilots is crawling away from the wreckage and I bring my knife in a flashing arc. Damn him for helping Sheperd get this far... I feel my face curl into a silent snarl and I don't try to fix it. I stumble closer to the crash and hear a sharp, hollow clicking. The other pilot is on his back, surrounded by wreckage and firing a pistol that's broken or empty or both. He's still willing to kill me for that traitor to more than his own country. Fuck him and all he stands for. I stagger towards the rear of the crash and I hear the clattering that can only be someone trying to escape. If the bastard is still alive, then I can kill him myself and take satisfaction in the feeling of his blood across my hands and the look in his eyes as he realizes he will die here and by the edge of this knife.
He makes it out of the burning wreck and runs away from me, clearly in better shape than anyone else in this goddamned desert... I wonder about Price's location for a moment, but it's hardly a completed thought before it's forgotten. I make my way slowly to the direction Sheperd ran, occasionally loosing my footing and constantly trying to make do with the water-logged breaths I can manage. It doesn't matter how much pain I'm in. The only thing that matters is that Sheperd experiences it ten-fold before he dies.
The traitor is leaning against the forgotten and demolished hull of some old vehicle. I raise my knife, mean to drag it across his gutless body, spill his blood... But he's too quick. He's not half as hurt as I let myself believe. He catches my blade, grabs the back of my neck, and slams my face into the roof of the car. The world blacks briefly and I fall. My eyes reopen just to see him grab his own knife and plunge it deep in my sternum. The world fades and I am hit with the realization that I will die here.
"Open your fucking eyes. If you die now, you die a criminal, and he still gets to be the hero of his own war." The ghost of Riley is yelling in my ear from beyond the grave and I realize he's right. I can't die here without killing him first. I struggle to open my eyes.
"Five years ago, I lost 30,000 men in the blink of an eye. And the world just fuckin' watched."
My eyes open. Thatis what all of this is about? An embittered man betraying his entire country over the actions of a few ultranationalists. He stands over me, emptying the spent casings from his revolver. He pushes new rounds into the weapon and snaps it closed. He aims it at my head and all I feel is pissed that he'll kill me before I have a chance to kill him.
There's a blur of khaki and cammo from the right and the bullet strikes the ground close to my head; close enough for the spray of sand to be painful. I see Price and Sheperd fighting nearby and grab a fistful of dirt.
I see a vision of Simon flash before my eyes, laughing at some joke. His blue eyes are mostly closed as he laughs and I ignore the screaming pain in my chest as I pull myself along the ground, pull myself towards Sheperd's dropped revolver.
This is what I'm fighting for. I will not die because he still lives and I will not die until he does. I drag myself across the ground and ignore the trail of blood I must be leaving. What good would blood do in my body if it were just to boil off at this inhuman rage? My entire adult life has been one warzone after the other (pull), running from one hiding spot to the next and trying to avoid the bullets in between(pull). Riley understood what it was like to lead such a sad excuse for a life, and he didn't judge my cynicism (pull), he didn't question my motives (pull), he only ever kept me from falling apart (pull). He was my only proof that there was a God and Sheperd had wiped that faith out with an unholy vengance. What kind of god would let that spot of good die?
My fingers wrap around the handle of the pistol and it goes flying from my hands. I turn and look up at Sheperd and I can't help but smirk at the bruises brought on by Price. His boot heel connected with my face and the world went dark. I wonder how many times I can go unconcious in one day without suffering any lasting damage...
"Open your eyes! If you don't kill him now, then no one will know that he killed me. He'll call me another of Makarov's casualties and I'll be nothing more than another name on a list."
I force myself to wake back up, though it is difficult to remain awake. Price is down, and Sheperd is beating him, hitting him again and again and again... While not the exact weapon I want to use to kill the son of a bitch, the knife in my chest will have to do. My hand moves slowly towards the hilt of the knife and I cringe as just that contact sends bolts of pain through me. I tug at the knife with a groan and I am reminded of why the knife is there. Sheperd cannot be called anything but a lying, backstabbing asshole. I bring both hands up to the hilt and I pull.
The next gust of wind doesn't carry the oppressive smell of half-charred flesh from the crash or the scent of blood from the fight nearby. It smells like Riley; Gun grease, sweat, determination, and a cologne that you can only find in his hometown.
The sun doesn't feel so hot as it beats down on me through the cloud of sand. It feels like the arms of a specter have wound around me; it feels like divine help in ripping this God-forsaken knife out of my chest. Simon.
The blade is finally wrenched free and the agony is kept at bay by this strange new chill that's either the arms of an angel or the onset of shock. I spin the blade across my palm, (a trick learned over the course of one too many sleepless nights just after Price "died" and before Riley transferred in) and take careful aim at the bullshit General.
"Sheperd." I grunt. He looks up and I let the blade fly.
It hits his left eye, buried all the way to the grip. He falls backwards and away from Price. Good. Fuck him. The chill surges and fades and I close my eyes again. My rage is sated and the traitor is dead. I'm too weak to hold myself up and I let the desert darken.
"Still not done down there, John. There's plenty of work to be done and you're the only one that can get it done."
"Soap!"
I don't want to wake up. I want to stay here, stay where I can still hear Riley.
"Soap!"
"Wake up, MacTavish. You'll see me again soon enough."
Price is bandaging me up, telling me the wounds will hold, and Nicholai is walking towards us from his helicopter. I try to turn away, try to go back to the burned truck, and succeed only in hurting myself and stumbling forward. Nicholai is soon at my side, trying to help me to the helo. I dig my heels in as best I can and tell him to bring my knife back. He glances at Price who only shrugs. Nicholai goes towards Sheperd's body and I shake my head. I want the knife I started all of this with. I tell him to look by the truck, tell him to bring me back that knife.
I allow myself to be led away only after he's pressed the handle into my palm.
Laying in the back of the Helo, still only half-concious, I look at the knife. I weakly run a blood-soaked fingertip over the little skull that's acid etched into the blade, right near the grip. I don't mention that the unauthorized decoration is there. I don't mention that it's not really my knife. I never told anyone it was a gift from Riley; a "self-portrait", he'd called it... He was just a skull to everyone but me. And now he's dead and gone and in a few months, he'll just be a skull... My hand curls around the knife and I hear a faint tearing as it cuts through my glove and cringe only slightly as it cuts into my palm.
Price leans over and gently pries my fingers from around the blade. He doesn't take it from me. He only wipes my blood on the leg of his trousers and presses the handle into my hand again. He does not question. He only nods and tells me to get some rest while I can still sleep. He tells me that we will set the record straight and we will kill everyone who upholds the lie. Good.
For the first time since Riley and Gary died, I close my eyes, and the world is stained with something other than blood-red rage.
A/N 2: Wow... That one was pretty goddamn long... 3,000 words, give or take... I know I said I would do anymore stories that take place during or after the game, but I figured that the best way to piss Soap off was to have Sheperd kill Ghost... This one is a little sappier than I intended, but I had "Running Up That Hill" as played by Placebo on loop... I seemed to fit the whole thing though... ANYWAY! Seven Deadly sins are done... Sorry it took so long to get this far. XP