… Inked pages…

The night air was crisp as he walked down the ramp, M14 slung over his shoulder while he bantered with a few teammates. He laughed with the group over a funny story, when a familiar voice suddenly grabbed his attention.

"Soap!"

Soap's eyes lit up at the familiar voice as his head whipped around and his eyes found Price, he hadn't seen the older man in a while, which had produced a bit of stress on his mind, so seeing the man now immensely helped to relieve it. Soap rushed down the ramp, practically jumping onto the older man.

"Price! It's good to see ye!" The Captain chuckled as he accepted Soap's hug.

"Sure is, son. How've you been?" Price asked, patting Soap's back before pulling away, hands resting on Soap's shoulders.

"Ah yannae, cleanin'." Soap jokes, smiling wider as Price chuckled and shook his head. The Captain patted his shoulder before turning.

"C'mon, I've got something we need to discuss."

Soap raised a questioning eyebrow as he followed, deciding to keep silent for the moment. With more than a little difficulty, he had a lot of questions swirling around in his head.

They walked away from the base, following a path to the rocky mountains. They didn't go all the way up though, stopping at the foot of the first hill when Price seemed to think they were far enough. Soap rocked back and forth on his feet impatiently as the older man turned to him and finally spoke.

"I've been putting together a new task force, and I want you to join." Soap's movements halted, his eyes widening as he stared at Price for a moment, blinking as if he expected to suddenly wake up from a dream.

"Yer serious?" A smile slowly broke out onto his face, "'Course I'd join! Did you really need to even ask?"

Price smiled and shook his head, "Not really, but I'd rather hear a straight answer from your mouth than assume."

"Aw haud yer weesht." Soap lightly punched him in the arm, "Ye'd prolly transfer me even if I declined."

Price shrugged, but the slight smile under his bushy stash was enough of an answer. The older man knew Soap well enough to know that the Sergeant would jump at any chance to see more action.

"Alright, get some rest tonight. You fly out tomorrow at 0500." Price patted his back as they headed back to the base.

"Ser!" Soap playfully saluted, receiving a light punch to his arm in response. He just chuckled.

. . . .

Soap was anxious the entire ride, Price had messaged him that he'd be at the base to greet him, along with his other teammates. From what Soap could glean from the texts, there were at least two, maybe three others. A small group considering, but that's what made him excited. It meant he would be in a special task force! Also meaning that he'd most likely receive special missions! He was quite literally vibrating in his seat as the plane began its descent to land, Soap barely managed to stop himself from running down the ramp before it even fully opened.

Once it was down though, it was no holds barred. He raced down to find Price waiting for him like he'd promised, along with a younger face.

"Soap! Right on time. Let me introduce you two." Price spoke as Soap came to a stop in front of them, not waiting for the introduction before sticking his hand out to the new face.

"Soap, meet Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. Gaz, meet John "Soap" MacTavish."

'Garrick? Why does that sound familiar?'

"Pleasure!" Soap smiled brightly as the other accepted his hand.

"Indeed, Price has told me a lot about you. I look forward to working together." Gaz returned the smile.

Soap raised an eyebrow at Price, "Oh? Good things I hope." His smile widened as he pulled his hand back.

"Only." Wherever the familiarity was from, Soap liked Gaz, that much was clear already. They'd get along wonderfully.

The two showed Soap around the base, letting him put his bag in his room before dragging him to the mess hall. Gaz proposed that they tell some stories, so the minutes passed as they each took turns.

"An ah told 'em "Tha's no place t'put a cow!" Th' poor girl was jus' standin' in th' middle of th' bar!"

Price chuckled as Gaz fell into a fit of laughter, a disbelieving expression on his face. "There's— No way, they actually thought it was a good idea to put a cow in a bar."

"Ye'd be surprised what people come up with." Soap smiled, shaking his head as the conversation came to a comfortable conclusion.

"Gaz, why don't you go fetch Ghost? He should be done by now." Price suggested, Gaz smiled and nodded. Taking his leave to find their final teammate.

Soap's leg bounced under the table as he looked at Price, who had put on his Captain's face the moment Gaz left. It made Soap sit up straight and pay attention.

"You're gonna have to hold back from your usual friendly touching when you meet him." Price said, face blank from everything but sincerity and authority.

Soap's brows pinched together, "Wha—? Why? Is th' guy a germaphobe or somethin'?" Price sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"No, just… Avoid touching, please? It's mostly for your own safety but…" He sighed again when Gaz returned, Soap expected someone to be behind him, but was left a bit disappointed when the door closed after him.

"Hey Gaz, did Price have the same no-touch talk with you?" Gaz raised an eyebrow for a moment before it lowered and he nodded, taking his seat.

"Yeah, I didn't exactly get much of an explanation. Although the guy doesn't seem bad, if a bit standoffish."

Soap raised an eyebrow, he'd met quite a few who preferred to stick by themselves. It certainly wasn't uncommon. The description only served to fire up Soap's curiosity, leading to his mind creating endless possible images of his mysterious teammate. He almost missed the sound of the mess door opening, Gaz and Price's conversation tapered off as all three of them turned their attention to the new arrival.

Soap's mind went blissfully blank as his eyes landed on the skull mask… it took him a moment to process it before he managed to take in the rest of the man's bulky figure, he was…a bit scary, if Soap were to be honest. Even from the door he could tell the man towered over him. It wasn't the first time he'd met someone taller than him, or bulkier, but the mask was definitely new.

What surprised him the most though, was how quiet his footsteps were despite his stature. Soap couldn't make his footsteps that quiet even if he was walking on foam. The masked man took a seat a notable distance away from Gaz, which brought Soap's mind back to what Price had told him. Silence didn't last long as Price broke it.

"These two have already met, so final introductions go to you, Ghost. This is Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish, since there are only four operatives and a handful of trainees, you two will be working closely together."

Soap was confused, Price only introduced the other man by his callsign, "Ghost" which wasn't typically uncommon for someone's callsign to be introduced first. But their full name always followed right after, yet Price never continued. There was no "Soap, this is blah 'Ghost' blah blah blah." Nothing… Pushing down the confusion, he smiled.

His hand instinctively moved, his manners automatically taking control until Soap realized and pulled it back to his side sheepishly. "Let's have some fun, yeah Lt?"

Ghost stared at him for a moment, eyes boring into him as he responded. "…Sure"

Soap was floored, the deep gravelly rumble— distinctly British accent— of his voice was not what he expected. Although he didn't exactly know what he expected, he hadn't even filled out a questionnaire for the basics of hair and eye color. Not that he could do the former, the balaclava kind of prevented that.

Gaz and Price looked just as surprised as Soap felt for some reason, he could understand Gaz, but Price? Was Ghost someone who was randomly picked to join rather than scouted by Price? After a prolonged silence, Gaz and Price picked up their conversation again. Soap didn't really bother joining. His eyes were glued to the mysterious man across from him, and the distant brown eyes under the mask. 'In thought.' He hummed to himself.

Soap didn't know if it was because he could only see his eyes, but the man seemed completely emotionless. Which sounds blasphemous because eyes are supposed to be the window into a person's soul, but as far as he could tell, Ghost's soul was completely blank. A sheet of paper with no ink, it puzzled him. In all his years of life and being in the military, even the toughest, most mysterious guys had something in their eyes. Be it hate, sadness, or longing. They all had something.

Except for Ghost, he seemed like the epitome of mystery, the textbook definition that others tried and failed to imitate. Soap would applaud and say it was impressive if it wasn't also uncomfortably… sad. Comparable to a puzzle with missing pieces. It made him want to find the missing pieces and place them back to see the full picture.

Soap never wished he could see someone's face more than he does now, although it was more of a desperation to see what emotions would be splayed across Ghost's face—if any. He let out a frustrated sigh, watching the other's eyes slide over to Price. Soap watched them apparently share a silent conversation before Price nodded and ended his vocal one with Gaz to speak.

"There are no missions planned yet, so use your free days to settle in." Ghost nodded, standing up and taking his leave. Soap watched his back as he slid into the hallway before his head immediately swerved towards Price.

"Why did ye only introduce him with his callsign?" Price let out a sigh, seemingly expecting the question.

"It's—" Price started only to be cut off by Gaz, "Classified." the younger man gestured with quotations. "It's the same answer he gave me when I asked." Gaz grumbled.

Price rubbed his temples, "Because it is, even if it wasn't, it isn't my place to tell."

Soap pouted, ready to bombard the older man with more questions when Price raised a hand to stop him.

"If you want to know, ask the man yourself." He finished before standing up and leaving as well.

Soap shared a dissatisfied look with Gaz before sighing and standing himself, he said his goodbye to Gaz before going to his room. It didn't take him long to shove everything into his dresser, only saving his guns and journal from the uncaring treatment. His thumb brushed over the rough leather of the book as he opened it, picking up the pen from between the pages as he sat down. Turning to an empty page, he sketched, dragging the pen against the paper effortlessly as the lines came together to form a picture.

Soap had suspected that the other was familiar when he first met Gaz. He just didn't realize he was the guy Soap lost to in the selection. He'll admit, it was a wounded pride moment when Price brought the subject up, but the proud look on his face made up for it. He jotted down a few notes under the sketch before moving to the other page, staring at the blank skull and dark eyes. The drawing was missing something, but no matter how long he looked at it. Soap couldn't figure out what, was it the lack of expression? Emotion? Something…it bothered him, never one to leave drawings or sketches incomplete.

Soap didn't have enough of a basis of Ghost's personality, at least that's how he felt. The other was wrapped in mystery and despite how long he stared at him, Soap simply cannot figure Ghost out. Not that he really expected to upon meeting him, there were plenty of rumors to go around about him. The biggest one was exactly that, of a ghost. Always hidden beyond a non-corporeal veil, unreachable and mysterious. Soap just expected… less of the rumors. As far as he could tell, most of them held up, but Soap was never one to believe something about someone simply through rumors. He wanted to learn about Ghost from Ghost. So he would, the only problem was… how?

. . . .

"One more, keep up!"

He shouted back at the group, smiling at the chorus of groans. Running had always been one of Soap's favorite pastimes, and that hadn't changed, even in the military. It helped clear his mind and run through his hyperactive energy, which was something he desperately needed right now. Ghost's eyes had been boring holes into him since early this morning when he came out for a run, Soap could understand that Ghost might be curious and cautious. But at some point he would have to realize that coming up to and talking to Soap, would be a lot more productive than staring. Ah well, he'd let Ghost figure it out for himself, until maybe Soap can't handle it anymore….

"Alright! Break time!"

A few rookies collapsed as everyone caught their breaths. And handle it, Soap couldn't. It was only when the eyes moved on that he managed to look over at the other, he was leaning back against the building with crossed arms. Ghost was certainly a sight, one that cut an intimidating figure in the otherwise calm picture. The passing soldiers all gave him a wide berth, it was rather unusual for Soap. Everyone always gathered around him, a natural outcome of his friendly and outgoing nature. Maybe that's why he felt like Ghost might be lonely….

"Lt!" He called out before he could rethink his decision. Dark eyes settled on him once more, waiting. "What dae ye say? Run a few laps?" Silence settled as Ghost stared at him, Soap almost took the long silence for its unfortunate answer before Ghost pushed off the wall. Arms falling to his sides, Soap watched the roll of his shoulders as he walked over.

Soap beamed excitedly as he joined Ghost on the track, "First one to seventy?" He knew it was disadvantageous for him, the hour he already spent running was felt in his nearly burning lungs as he paced his breathing through his nose. Ghost stared at him, he seemed to do that a lot, Soap didn't mind though. He didn't get a response before the other started walking, walking. When he had suggested they run laps, he expected to run. Not that he was complaining, the stroll was a nice reprieve from the previous exertion.

He'd spoken too soon because when he caught up to the other, Ghost picked up his pace to a jog, and Soap followed his pace without question. 'What is he thinkin'?' He didn't know, but he would undoubtedly find out. Soap's breathing was starting to grow heavy, the hot sun beating down on his sweat-coated skin didn't help at all.

"Whoever gets lapped, loses." The words came at him like a bullet, Soap didn't even have a moment to question before Ghost was bolting it.

"Hey! Motherf—." He ran after the other, completely floored by the unexpected speed. How did Ghost run so goddamn fast? It should've been impossible with how heavy he looked, and yet, here he was. Gaining distance from Soap little by little, he didn't let himself go out without a fight though, holding out until the sixty-eighth lap. At which point, Ghost lapped him twice, the bastard. Panting, he watched the other's chest rise and fall with his breathing. Both of their shirts were soaked in sweat and Soap didn't doubt the balaclava was sticking unpleasantly to Ghost's face.

He couldn't help but smile as he walked over, "You had to beat me twice." shaking his head with a chuckle, "I'll buy ye a drink sometime, aye?" He unconsciously jutted out his elbow to playfully jab Ghost, who narrowly avoided it.

"…I'll hold you to it." He grunted uncommittedly before turning and walking away.

Soap stared, a warmth settling inside him as he grinned. 'Ah should be sayin' that.'

. . . .

A few days passed quicker than Soap had wanted, even more so when he considered the fact that he had hardly run into Ghost the entire time. It was frustrating, how was he supposed to get to know the man if he couldn't even find him? Soap groaned into his hands, rubbing at his face before lowering them to the open journal. The pages were littered with notes and jumbled thoughts, almost all including some mention of the Lieutenant. He was no closer than the first day, he already hadn't expected this to be easy. Now though, it started to seem impossible….

Sighing, he closed the journal and placed it under his pillow. He was still full of pent-up energy, so he decided to grab his FTac Recon and head for the firing range. Settling into a relaxed stride down the hallway, when the muted sounds of gunshots caught his attention.

It didn't seem likely for Price to be in the firing range, and Gaz had been watching cat videos in the mess. So the only person left… He was proven correct as he stepped into the open space, eyes landing on the hulking figure standing to the far left. Ghost's posture was pure perfection, each shot hitting its mark. Soap grinned as he walked over to the firing range beside the other, checking his weapon as he watched Ghost bring his target in.

The other either didn't seem to notice him or simply didn't acknowledge him, either way, Soap aimed at the preset target. Peeking through the scope as he slowly breathed out, firing a single shot. He mentally cheered at his success as he continued firing, just barely missing three shots. Setting the firearm down, he brought the target in. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked at the three outlying holes as if they could solve his problems.

Quiet footsteps drew his attention as he looked over at Ghost who was approaching him, much to his surprise. He figured the guy would've continued to keep to himself, Soap smiled as his brain slowly tried to work out a mental profile for the other man.

"Hey Lt! You've got quite the shot!" He complimented, it was true, Ghost was scarily good.

The firing range was silent as the two stared at each other. Soap didn't really find it awkward, per se, just a bit suffocating. He's never been the best with silence, but he decided to at least try to be patient. Especially since Soap could see Ghost's jaw working under the balaclava, as if he wanted to say something but was fighting with himself. So he let his smile soften and watched the man work his thoughts out.

Thank god it seemed to work because Ghost finally spoke after five painful minutes, yes Soap counted, it was the only thing he could do to keep his attention without turning away from the man in front of him.

"Your shoulder…" Soap raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for the man to continue. "When you shoot, you raise your shoulder a bit…" His eyes widened, realizing Ghost was giving him advice! Soap glanced at the target, then his shoulder, before landing on the man in front of him.

"Well damn, do I really? Never noticed that before." He chuckled, a bit embarrassed that he hadn't realized it. With the new information, he turned towards the target, picking up his gun and reloading it before setting his target back out. Aiming, he focused on his shoulder this time, catching it raise just like Ghost said. Soap tried to force it down but the butt of the gun kept jabbing him every time he settled it, his frustration was starting to grow as he tried to position the butt of the gun better and tried shooting. The recoil was hard on his arm and the overall position was uncomfortable, he was growing more frustrated when a hand rested on his shoulder.

Soap's eyes widened as he froze, watching as Ghost repositioned the gun. His breath caught in his throat when rough hands guided his, Ghost… Ghost was touching him. 'What the fuck?!' Price had said not to touch him, but he never said anything about Ghost touching him. Why hadn't he? There was a reason Price told him not to touch Ghost, but the man didn't seem to have a problem with touching him.

His thoughts halted as he had to physically stop himself from jumping at the hands on his head, calloused fingers brushing his scalp, his eyes probably would've rolled back if he dragged his nails a little—Nope! That is— Ending there… Ghost's hands carefully but quickly readjusted his head's positioning. The hands withdrew just as quickly as they came and Soap felt at a loss from the missing contact. Ghost cleared his throat somewhere behind him as he spoke.

"Go ahead."

Soap's trigger finger pulled after the first word, his body felt a bit like a live wire that just went off with the pull of the gun's trigger. He didn't even process anything until the gun clicked, empty. He tossed the gun onto the table, leaning forward to stare in astonishment at the target. He landed every. single. bullet.

"Holy shit, Lt." Soap's head whipped around to look at Ghost, a painfully wide smile pulling at his face as delight filled him. "Yer a saint! A've been tryin' t'solve why ah haven't been able t'make every shot!" His accent grew thicker with the excitement as he jumped at the other, arms wrapping around Ghost's torso as he giggled in pure elation.

Now he could brag to Price about finally having a perfect shot! He sighed a breath of relief as the excitement slowly faded, his brain finally registering the rigid body he clung to, horror immediately filled him as he gasped and quickly retracted his arms. He stepped out of the other's personal space. "Oh! 'm so sorry! Shit, I didn't mean to— Are you alright?"

He stared at Ghost apprehensively, his shoulders were stiff but that was the only thing that told Soap that the other was bothered. He tried to search his eyes but they had the same blank stare. It frustrated him, being unable to completely understand how Ghost was feeling. He wanted to reach out and comfort him but also didn't want to make the situation worse.

What was one supposed to do when dealing with someone who was adverse to touch but also possibly internally panicking and or having a mental breakdown? Soap didn't know what was going on with Ghost, but his instincts told him to comfort the man. The only problem is, his only known method of comforting someone is physical touch. Which for obvious reasons, probably wouldn't work.

"Ghost? Are ye alright?" He took a slight step forward, ears straining to try and hear maybe panicked breathing, or something. At least a hint to Ghost's current state, but there was nothing... Okay, alright. Not a big deal, he could be a quiet breather…Soap's head spun as he distinctly observed not a single rise or fall of his chest. "Are—Are ye breathin' at least?" He decided to risk it and ask, better than not saying anything and watching Ghost pass out from lack of oxygen.

His answer came in the form of the slow rise of Ghost's chest, Soap was a bit shocked the man wasn't gasping for air after holding his breath that long. He watched Ghost's body come back to life as the man himself finally spoke.

"Yeah… No, yeah. I'm alright." He very unconvincingly muttered as he grabbed his gun and practically ran out of the firing range.

"Shite…"

Soap relaxed his posture as he rubbed a hand through the scruff of his facial hair, Price was going to be pissed….He groaned as he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his gun, making his way back to his room. He only stayed long enough to drop off his gun before searching for Price. His search led him to the mess, where he realized lunch was ready. Decidedly pushing away the thought of eating, he hesitantly walked over to Price and Gaz. The Captain noticed him first since he was facing him, Soap realized his expression must've been a concerning sight because Price's face turned serious as he approached.

"What's wrong, son?"

Soap couldn't make himself look at his Captain, instead choosing to stare at the table as he prepared himself for the conversation. Taking a deep breath, he spoke before his mind could change. "Yannae how ye told me not to touch Ghost…?" The silence was deafening, but it lasted barely a moment before Price was grabbing him by the shoulders.

"What happened!? Where's Ghost!?" Soap's eyes widened at the frighteningly worried expression on Price's face.

"I— He— His room, I think." He stammered out, as soon as the words left his mouth Price was running off like someone just told him his child got hurt. Soap shared a shocked expression with Gaz before they both followed after their Captain. Catching up, they watched Price bang on Ghost's door.

"Ghost, open the door. C'mon son, it's alright. Just turn the lock, it's just me." Soap watched the worried creases deepen on Price's face as the seconds passed "Ghost, you're alright. Everything's alright, you're at the base. I need you to unlock your door, son."

Soap was also growing increasingly worried by Price's behavior, was it really that serious? Did he fuck up badly? What was Ghost doing in his room? Would he hurt himself? It certainly seemed like it from how his Captain was reacting, in all of the time he's known and spent with Price. The man has never once shown this much worry, sure Soap got a lot of worry from the man, but never this much... Did Soap accidentally trigger Ghost? Is that why Price told them not to touch him? It would make sense.

Something happened to Ghost and now touch triggers some kind of trauma response, Soap just hoped it wasn't a harmful one. He worried his bottom lip as he watched the desperation in Price's face and actions, even his words were laced with it now. So thick it was almost suffocating. Soap's eyes turned to stare at the blank door, mind swirling with unpleasant thoughts as his chest clenched unpleasantly.

He just hopes Ghost is safe…

. . . .

… Stained skin…

. . . .

… Collared…

Ghost's chest seized up as he curled further into himself, hands gripping the sides of his head as he rocked back and forth. That damned speaker replaying the same recording for the hundredth time.

"Your name is Ghost, You're loyal to Manuel Roba, you've been bad so you're being punished. Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog."

Click

"Your name is Ghost, You're loyal to Manuel Roba, you've been bad so you're being punished. Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog."

His blunt nails dug into his scalp, eyes squeezed shut hard enough to build up a headache. Ghost knew that by now, he didn't even need the speaker to repeat, the words constantly raced through his head like a destructive train. Breaking up the pieces of Simon Riley and trying to piece together some twisted amalgamation. Ghost flinched as the metal door slid open, he didn't bother opening his eyes, knowing perfectly well who it was. Footsteps echoed in his ringing ears, stopping somewhere in front of him.

'Go away, go away, go away!' Ghost desperately tried to will the words into existence.

The chain of his damned collar tugged bruisingly at his neck, forcing him up less he wanted to be choked. His eyes slowly peaked opened to the bright and bleary room, hands moving down to grip the chain. Roba clicked his tongue a few times, hand running up the chain to Ghost's hands. He tugged harshly, receiving a wince in return as he held the defiant gaze.

"Ghost, I am beginning to grow sick of your defiance. I may be a merciful owner, but I am not a patient one. And you have been testing—" he emphasized the word with another tug of Ghost's chain. The smell of garlic wafted from the other's mouth, causing Ghost to grimace. "—my patients. Your friends have been so compliant, don't you want to join them, hm? They get wonderful treats, don't you want some treats Ghost? Treats are much better than punishments."

Ghost felt sick to his stomach listening to him, he felt even sicker when a part of him tugged against his logical thoughts and told him to comply. The twisted, drilled-in virus that Roba spent so long forming in Ghost's subconscious, it was a sickening and weak part that wanted all this to end, to finally give in.

"Ghostie, look at me, boy."

It sounded like a request but with the unrelenting hold Roba had on his chain, he couldn't look away even if he had the strength to try. So he focused a venomous glare on him. It certainly worked to piss the man off, the rough palm connected with his cheek, his head turning with the blow as he kept a hard and defiant expression.

"Now now, enough of that. Hurry up and comply, your friends have become boring."

Ghost's brows knitted in confusion at the words, which only received a devilish smirk from Roba. He didn't respond to the unasked question, instead, he tugged on the chain again. Forcing Ghost's face forward as Roba straightened and met the movement with his hips.

Ghost was mortified, his hands rushing out to push against the other's legs, unsuccessful as his face unwillingly met Roba's crotch. Disgust and a sudden rush of adrenaline let him push himself back, Roba let him go. Ghost's hands pulled on the chain as he sneered at the psychopath in front of him. Roba only laughed, face turning dark as he forced Ghost forward again. His face inches from his.

"Too bad I can't risk you biting, might have to build a muzzle." He hummed thoughtfully as if he was simply discussing buying groceries.

"Go…fuck yerself…" Ghost's words grated against his painfully dry and sore throat, his accent was heavy.

Roba clicked his tongue "Nu-uh, only good boys get nice words~"

Ghost shivered against his will at the velvety tone his captor used, he regretted it vehemently more so because it only seemed to encourage the other. Roba's eyes lit up as he smirked, "Ah, do you like this tone better?~ Perhaps that's why you're more defiant, I suppose it's my fault I didn't try to switch it up~ Animals do react differently to tonal changes~"

Contrary to what Roba seemed to believe, the tone accompanied by his words only served to disturb Ghost even more, if simply on account of that fucking virus singing opera in response to it. He wanted to crawl into a dark corner and rip apart his body until he clawed away at the poison.

Your name is Ghost, You're loyal to Manuel Roba, you've been bad so you're being punished. Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog.

The stupid voice repeated, it repeated and repeated and repeated . Ghost regretted not just shooting himself at that time, he'd never get that lucky to hold a gun again. Hell, he's debated just gnawing at his wrists until he bleeds out. He doesn't know why he hasn't yet, whatever strand of hope and life still exists in him after all this, must be locked behind a goddamn diamond vault door that not even Ghost has access to.

"Come on Ghostie, tell master what you want. I can give you anything, as long as you behave~"

A quiet unbidden whimper tore its way out of his mouth, sending his mind spiraling as he internally screamed at the virus, his split mind fighting for his body viciously. Roba looked entirely too pleased by the reaction, hand carefully grabbing Ghost's chin.

"Use your words, I'll even allow nice words~" Roba's tongue ran over his lips purposefully slow, seductive, as greedy eyes bore into Ghost.

He wanted to kill him, he wanted to watch him slowly bleed out then fucking feed him his own dick since he seemed to like it so much. He wanted to watch the horror on his face as Ghost sliced him up slowly and tortured him just the same. He wants to beg. The thought made him turn green, stomach acid taunting his tongue as he registered a thumb on his lips. Ghost watched with knitted brows as it ran back and forth before pulling down at his bottom lip.

"You've also got the best canines~" Roba seemed to have been rambling if the words he did catch were any suggestion. The thumb pushed against his teeth, seeming to try and gain entry. Ghost was really tempted to do it, if only to bite his finger off, but the dangerous glint in Roba's eyes said that wouldn't be a good idea. "A dirty tongue~" His thumb withdrew before his hand shot out to grip Ghost's hair.

Choking down the disgusting whine that nearly bubbled all the way up through his throat as Roba pulled his head back. His other hand moved out of his vision, a smirk crossed Roba's face when his thumb ran down Ghost's trachea. Bumping on his adam's apple as it bobbed, the touch made his skin crawl but that damned virus was practically sobbing out of joy inside him, he wanted to sob for exactly the opposite reason. For the fact that he didn't even know how much time had passed outside, how many hours were spent in torture at the hand of this fucking psychopath.

He should've taken the chance to bite off Roba's finger, maybe he would've got lucky and struck a twofer. He'd certainly take pleasure in watching the fucker struggle to hold anything. Ghost didn't give him anything but a glare throughout the strange touches, despite this, Roba seemed satisfied when he let go of Ghost and stood up to leave.

"It's only a matter of time Ghost, It's only a matter of time…" He grinned as the door closed and locked behind him, Ghost laid on the cold concrete floor, nearly sobbing when the speakers turned on again and the familiar recording replayed. His never ending torment and psychosis.

"Your name is Ghost, You're loyal to Manuel Roba, you've been bad so you're being punished. Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog. A good dog. "

. . . .

Ghost rocked back and forth, hands clenching the fabric of his mask as he mindlessly mumbled the words repeatedly.

"Your name is Ghost, You're loyal, you've been bad so you're being punished. Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog."

The muttered words didn't register with his faraway mind, two worlds apart yet uncomfortably connected. His ears rang, and he could swear he heard banging, maybe it was Roba. He was pulling tricks again, having a subordinate bang on the door claiming to be part of a task force sent to rescue him. It was an old trick, one that didn't even work the first time, his hope for a savior had been crushed after the seventh time he was strapped to that table…. So why was he still banging? Ghost couldn't understand it, the banging sounded different. Not the familiar metal, but wood. Had they moved? When? Why?

"You're loyal, you've been bad so you're being punished. Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog."

"Ghost! It's alright, it's Price. You're safe. I need you to open the door for me."

That wasn't right, Price wasn't here, he couldn't be. Was this another trick? Would he open the door to find Roba holding a gun to Price's head? Would he watch as blood sprayed and bodies dropped while Roba dragged him back?

"Bad dogs get punished, good dogs get treats. You want to be a good dog..."

"Son, You're safe. You're at base, I just need you to unlock your door."

The voice was worried, why would Price be worried? Maybe there was a gun… Maybe Roba will get impatient and just shoot him before barging in.

"You want to be a good dog..."

"Ghost, please." There was a moment of hesitation before he continued, voice sounding closer to the door. "Roba's dead, you're safe. I promise, I need you to open your door so you don't hurt yourself. Please."

Ghost's muttered mantra stopped then, body freezing mid rock as the ruins of his mind tried to process the unbelievable information. Dead? Roba? That…possible? Was…was he really? Price wouldn't lie to him, even if he had a gun to his head. Would he?

"Ghost, please. Just listen to my voice. I need you to turn the lock."

Lock? Could he? But Roba would get mad, but Roba was dead, Price said he was…. Was he actually? Was Roba messing with him again?

"Son, it's alright. Just open the door for me."

Ghost slowly lifted his head, visions of bloodied concrete floors conflicted with sleek brown wood. His hands shook as he slowly pulled them away from his head, it hurt trying to process everything. So he didn't, he crawled on wobbly hands and knees to the door. 'It's alright, it's Price. Price is here, always, always is. Always here, he wouldn't leave. Never, never. Roba wouldn't get him, couldn't, Price said. Dead, he's dead.'

Simon hesitantly reached for the lock, taking a shaky breath before slowly turning it and moving aside as his back pressed into the wall once more, knees coming up to his chest as he hid his face in them. Wrapping his arms around his knees and head as his left hand gripped his pant leg and the other gripped the back of his balaclava. Simon listened to the hushed whisper of Price's voice behind the door before it slowly opened, quiet and unsure footsteps entered as the door shut and locked. Price crouched down beside him, his presence alone was already calming.

"Is it alright to touch?" His voice was soft, patient and worried as Simon shook his head a moment before he nodded. Frustration built as his desperation craved comfort but abhorred the thought of being touched. "Okay…. How about we take our time with it? Just a hand?" Simon shook his head, he didn't want a simple pat on the shoulder.

He couldn't breathe, his lungs and chest painfully constricting with his internal conflict. "Son, take a breath. You're alright, can—can you remove your mask? It'll help you breathe."

Simon quietly gasped against the fabric, he knew he should remove it. But it was the only thing preventing him from entirely breaking down, so he shakily rolled the bottom up over his nose instead.

"Good, good. You're doing good, now take a deep breath for me. Okay? Follow my breathing."

Simon's ears strained against the ringing as he tried to take a shaky breath, only to be cut off by another quiet gasp. He tried not to panic, panicking wouldn't help. He could take a breath, it was simple, if only his lungs didn't constrict so tightly.

"Simon, it's alright. Try again, start with a small breath and work up, okay? In and out." Price repeated a few breaths.

Simon followed along.

Breathe… 1…2.

Exhale…

Breathe… 1…2.

Exhale…

Breathe… 1…2.

He counted the seconds as he slowly inhaled and exhaled repeatedly. Keeping a calming pace as his lungs loosened, his heartbeat began settling to a semi-normal rate.

"Good, good." Price's relief and smile could be heard in his voice.

Simon's sudden want for comfort shot to the top of his priority list as he unfurled his body and practically collapsed onto Price. Burying his face into the other man's shoulder as he broke down, silent tears spilling from his eyes and onto Price's shirt. Despite the unpleasant shivers the contact brought, he didn't pull away when the other wrapped his arms comfortingly around him. Simon found comfort in Price, maybe because he reminds him a little of his mother. The comparison made him feel a bit melancholy, but it was also a great comfort. Perhaps that is why his touch doesn't feel as bad….

As long as Price was near him, it didn't matter whether he was in that damned basement or not. Simon felt… safe… free….

… Broken Chains…