Chapter Text
“JESUS-- FUCK ---EVERYONE GET THE FUCK DOWN,” you wailed at the top of her lungs.
The piercing sound of enemy fire ripping into your cover tore away at your eardrums. It felt as if they were being fired directly into your head; your head was pounding at the noise. You and your team were crouching well below the rusted top of your makeshift shield: a car that had been tossed onto its side.
This is bullshit. You thought to yourself. The One-Four-One is hiding.
You were at a complete disadvantage, as the bullets were coming down at us from an upward angle. Whoever was shooting at you had the high ground. On top of that, there were ten yards of empty road on either side of you. You just had to wait this shit out. The rounds were fired for what seemed like hours, until the sounds of empty clips hitting the ground faltered and the bullets began to slow. Eventually, they stopped altogether. Your neck and shoulders relaxed as I took a breath of relief. You hadn’t realized that they'd been clenched for so long.
Looks like we’ll live at least another day.
As if he heard your remark, Soap glanced over at you, gave a curt nod, and slowly raised to peer over our cover. When his eyes had a clear view of the enemy’s location, his face went blank. While no enemy fire greeted his forehead, you still had no idea where the enemies came from or went. We were still at the disadvantage.
They could be inching towards us, surrounding us, or fuck knows what else. We had to get out of there fast. After all, our cover was only good from one direction.
“Captain. Permission to move out.” Soap questioned.
There was a moment of silence, followed by the Captain whispering something under his breath. “Granted. Make it fast.”
Soap adjusted his feet so he was in a crouching position—he swiftly backed away from our cover and started toward the destroyed shopfront. It looked like it was once a budget pharmacy.
In your mobile formation – perfectly rehearsed, you must say – you moved like ducks in a row. Soap led the line, followed by Gaz, the Captain, and Vargas. Ghost was behind you, but you didn’t hear a single sound as he stalked behind. You felt urged to glance over your shoulder to confirm he was even there but didn’t want to risk bumping into Vargas.
After about ten yards of shuffling, you reached the decrepit pharmacy. The bell on the door rang out six high-pitched “dings” as you all made our way in.
So he was behind me. Impressive.
The snack isle was cleared out, much to your dismay, and meds were scattered all over the mildewy laminate flooring. Damn. This place was a shithole and couldn’t even offer us any supplies.
Begrudgingly, you planted your heels on the hard soles of your boots and rose to your full height. The rest of the team did so as well, and you were reminded of your size. At a mere 5’6” you were dwarfed by the rest of them – even in your military-issue boots. You were still the best on 141, other than Ghost, of course.
Speaking of Ghost, you still hadn’t seen him since before the ambush.
Then again, he usually found a corner and kept to himself.
Your survey of the band aid aisle was interrupted once Soap told you to form a debrief circle.
“Where the fuck did they even come from? This area was just cleared by the Yanks,” Soap spat.
“You just answered your own question. We counted on the Americans for information,” Vargas replied.
Behind you, you heard loud footsteps approaching from the back of the pharmacy. Despite the shit all over the floor, the boots landed gracefully on the floor as these made their way down the snack aisle.
Vargas, who was to your left, and Gaz, to your right, stepped away from you to make room—confirming that the footsteps were closing in just behind. Paradoxically, the steps seemed to get quieter as they neared. A feline grace.
It could only be one person. You only knew one person who moved like that. One person who commanded that kind of respect from the team.
A deep, rough, gravelly voice echoed across the storefront. That unmistakably gruff Manchester accent began:
“They came from the North and were shooting from the grocery store to the right of the town square. That briefing said that the stores on some of these blocks can be navigated via interior entrances. My guess is that they moved down, towards us, from the bakery just north of the grocers. That’s why we didn’t seem ‘em coming.”
You could never get used to the sound of his voice. It caused a line of chills down your neck every time you heard it. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of something else entirely. You didn’t like to give yourself room to think about it. Not during missions, at least.
“Well, look who’s been doin’ their homework,” Soap smiled.
“Always,” Ghost retorted. Stern as ever.
The Captain chimed in:
“Well, since you remember, what do you reckon we do? Is there another entrance into those stores?”
“Yeah, it’d be good to use another entrance to get those bastards by surprise...assuming they’re still in that building.” Gaz chimed in.
“Shit,” Vargas vented, “If they can move without us seeing, they could be anywhere.”
After a wave of nods made its way around the group, your teammates began to face the man behind you; the only one that could have a solution. Following the others, you slowly turned around. Your line of vision met his large chest, made even broader by his bulletproof vest. Your eyes moved up, and up still, until they reached his mask.
The utter power of Ghost’s appearance always surprised you. No matter how many times you had seen his height and large, muscular frame, they always intimidated you. And that mask. That intriguing, eerie mask.
Only—only his eyes were soft. Gentle. And they were looking down at you. At your face smudged with dirt and blood, your chapped lips.
Am I imagining this?
As quickly as he glanced at you, his eyes returned to their usual cruel focus. His chin lifted from looking down at you and was now parallel with the floor. Looking toward the Captain, he said,
“They could be in two areas. The first is that they are still in the grocery store block; if they found a place to hide out and fire at us, odds are that they stayed there. Especially since you can move between storefronts without detection. I believe that next to the grocery store there is a bakery, and next to that, a deli.” He paused and sighed.
“But we have been in here for several minutes. They could have moved across the street and have hidden in the houses. In that case, we could be fired on from different angles and heights.” He shifted his feet and hung his hands from the neckline of his vest.
Your eyes wandered down from his mask to his hands. They were enormous . Your gaze followed the lines of his fingerless gloves and down onto his forearms. The muscles shifted in his arms as he shifted his grip. The veins in his arms prominent as--
“We’re so fucked,” a familiar Scottish voice grunted.
“Yeah, there's only six of us and we’d need to sweep two areas. Not to mention both places they could be are across from each other, meaning we could get shot if we fuck up,” Gaz postulated.
“We should split up into teams,” added Vargas.
“Like hell we should, two or three soldiers can’t take on a whole squadron.”
Vargas replied, “Speak for yourself, McTavish, I could take on a whole fucking--,”
The Captain interrupted, “Bullshit, I could....”
Men .
You snapped. “Listen, instead of this pissing contest, sir, shouldn’t we be actually coming up with a plan.”
Ghost cleared his throat, causing everyone’s attention to revert to him. You could swear that he was smiling under his mask.
“Gold’s right. Shut the fuck up. We’re going to split up into three teams. One team will sweep the store fronts. One team will take cover by the fountain and take out any enemies they can. And the last one will sweep the houses.”
He removed his hands from the edge of his vest and crossed his arms. He widened his stance and straightened his shoulders.
Great. His “I’m in charge now” stance. This ought to be good.
His gaze, now piercing, moved between your teammates. It did not go to you, though.
“Alright. Team One, storefronts: Vargas and Gaz. Team Two, statue: Soap and the Captain.”
Your heart raced. This means --
“Team Three, houses: me and Gold.”
You shouldn’t be surprised. The best with the best.
Teammates began to pair up. You stayed put as he was a mere few feet away. You looked up at his face, expecting his eyes to be on you. But he was looking at the pharmacy’s front door, then the floor, then the busted cash register. Basically, Ghost was looking everywhere but at you.
Interesting.
“ Permission to move out, sir,” Gaz inquired.
“Granted. Make sure you’re ready for action. Confirm with your team to leave when you are ready.”
Muted conversations broke out in the other corners of the pharmacy. Vargas and Graz were peering out the window planning their route to the storefronts. The Captain and Soap were sitting on the old register counter.
Why were they paired up?
You turned your head back to look up at Ghost. He continued to look at God-knows-what.
Enough of this bullshit; we got things to do.
“Ghost,” you rasped. Your voice was a lot hoarse than it was a few moments ago. You hadn’t drunk any water in hours, and it was starting to catch up with you.
Your teammate finally shifted his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were soft again, just as they were a few minutes ago. His gaze was both lovely and scary; welcoming and intense. Ghost’s eyes darted to your cheekbones, to your jawline, and landed on your mouth. For a moment, you weren’t on a battlefield.
His hands returned to the rim of his bulletproof vest. His forearms flexed and you could see the muscles rippling underneath.
“You’ve got blood on you,” he uttered.
His voice made your breath hitch. Despite this, you scoffed, then let out a chuckle.
Of course, he would say that.
“You’ve got a mask on you,” you retorted.
He didn’t laugh, but you could swear you saw a light of amusement in his eyes. He then reached to get a bottle out of his pack’s side pocket. He unscrewed the bottle with those careful, strong hands and handed it to you. With a nearly imperceptible hint of worry, Ghost noted,
“Your voice is rough.”
After you gave a brief smile and grabbed it. Your palm grazed against the exposed flesh of his fingers. Ghost immediately pulled back.
As you drank from his bottle, he began,
“We’re gonna head over to the house furthest south first. I saw an entry on the side of the park while we were taking cover. Let’s head in through that door and sweep the house. To cross the street to get there, we’re gonna head to the wrecked car. I’ll make sure the coast is clear before we make a run for it to the house. There’s not a lot of cover, so--”
“--Run fast. I got it.”
You took one final swig of water before screwing the lid back on. When you handed it back to Ghost, he was careful that your skin didn’t touch again. You swallowed hard.
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I appreciate it. Now then, are you ready to kick some ass?”
“Always.”
There was that deep voice again.
There were two “Dings” at the door of the store. You could see the back of the Captain’s fishing hat through the cracked, dirty window at the entrance. Following that, Vargas yelled over at you and Ghost that he was moving out with Gaz. Another two rings.
You looked over at your partner. You were the last ones left. And you had the furthest distance to go. And you both had no idea what would be in those houses.
The tension was palpable. Your instinct was to break it.
“By the way, Ghost. Do you always have a lemon slice in your water?” you smirked.
“Shut up.”
He made his way toward the exit, and you followed. His broad shoulders shifted as he reached and unstrapped his gun.
He turned his head to look over his shoulder; the prominence of his skull mask was outlined beautifully by the sun coming in.
“Ready when you are, Gold.”