Authors Note: I wrote this song listening to Lana Del Ray's "Pretty when I cry" on repeat. I'm already planning the next fanfic, at least the beginning but with MW3 coming out in November. There will be one more Chapter after this and then an Epilogue. Then the next fic will start. Ghost is just such an insanely fun character to write.
TW: Ghost struggles with suicidal contemplation at the end of this chapter.
Vengeance was so satisfying. Ghost bathed in every day of his damned life; chewed, sucked, and swallowed it whole. He would let it sit in his stomach and fester until it turned to poison and killed him. But he would welcome that death, welcome the misery with open arms if it meant that he could stop seeing her dead face every time he closed his eyes.
Whomever had command over death was evil and cruel. But that deity, person, energy was also fucking hilarious. Because while destroying everything that Simon was within the skull mask, they had left a little piece of themselves behind. A dark little sliver of anguish that could be called upon in moments like this. After his family had been murdered, he had summoned that little piece of death that was left behind, Squeezing the life out of Manuel Roba had been the closest thing to heaven he would ever come close to.
Whoever said that revenge satisfied nothing was a damned liar. After he had watched that little glimmer of light dim in Manuel's eyes, he had gone completely berserk. Rearing back his upper lip and digging his teeth into the fatty tissue of his neck. Like a vampire, possessed and demented, he had swallowed the blood of his enemy. But the things he imagined doing to Hassan made that seem like child's play. Trivial. Merciful.
In the darkness of his own mind, the autopilot light blinked like a strobe light. No other thoughts passed through his mind other than spilling the blood of the man who had started all of this. He could picture it already, the blood, the guts, his knuckle burying themselves deep into the tissue and bones of Hassan's face. He saw nothing but red.
They had left Kootenai only hours ago, stopping only to refuel the helicopter as it took them to Chicago. Damage control was provided to the entire team in those fifteen minutes of rest. Damage control was the best way to put it, because it was not consolidation that Ghost needed and Price, Gaz and Soap knew that. When Price had carefully stepped close to Ghost who had exited the helicopter only for the purpose of punching a metal post until his fingers cracked, Ghost had turned and nearly wrapped his fingers around Price's neck. Price had thrown off Ghost's hands, putting a single pointer finger in his face as Soap and Gaz both stepped to intervene. "You finish this," Price growled, "you finish this mission and I'll consider not discharging you for disobeying orders."
Ghost said nothing, only heaved breaths of air that were thickly laced with a rage that was unnatural and inhuman. Soap's accent was much calmer as his hands reached for his best friend, "Simon-" Ghost's eyes flicked to Johnny, and he could no longer speak. There was nothing behind those eyes, no person, no fire, no hatred. Soap breathed heavily, trying not to push the animal any further, "she would want you to finish this, we have a missile to find, people to save."
Gaz nodded and checked on the captain who waved him off. Price was equally as shaken by Jamie's death. He was her Captain, she shouldn't have been alone on the top of that tower, he should have posted someone with her. Maybe if they had stayed on the other side of the bridge they could have gotten to her faster and called for a medical evacuation faster. Her death was on his hands and his hands alone. He had lost soldiers before, several of them, but there was something about this one that did not seem fair. She had been forced to be here, even when she decided to stay on her own volition, she didn't have much of another choice.
Despite his initial dislike and distrust of her, she had proven herself useful more than enough times to prove him wrong. He liked being proven wrong, it meant that he would never overestimate someone. He had never had his team react to a comrade's death in the same way either. Soap and Gaz seemed to filter the loss with an emotionless stare and disbelieving temple rubs. But Ghost... Ghost's reaction actually scared Price. Terrified him.
That black, filthy, repulsive anger bubbled to the surface of his skin like a werewolf breaking the skin of the cursed. The muscles of his neck flexed and tensed as if he was transforming, metamorphosing into a sick demon. While Price could only imagine how Jamie's death was affecting Ghost, he was certain that any emotions about the situation were gone, and only revenge remained.
Even now, as the lights of downtown Chicago came into view, Price couldn't take his eyes away from Ghost who sat, maskless, with his jaw so tense he was concerned he might break his teeth. "Hey," Price prodded, but Ghost's eyes didn't raise from the floor of the helo, "can you do this?"
Ghost didn't make any indication that he was even hearing him, but the heavy lift and then quick drop of his shoulder was enough of an answer. Questioning Ghost's abilities was an insult to him, Price was well aware of his capabilities, but Jamie... Jamie had changed him. He had seen it the moment he saw the way they exchanged looks after rescuing Alejandro from that prison, Ghost's glare never looked so human before. Ghost was going to implode.
"Watcher 1- to Bravo-6 Actual. We have a possible hit on the missile container, we are moving in now," the sound of Laswell's words through the radio sounded like screams compared to the silence they had been in for hours, despite the chopping sound of the helicopter blades.
"Solid copy," Price said, "All stations, we are moving in."
Ghost could see the boats below, speeding down the middle of the Chicago canals with earnestness. Marines were in those boats, backup... backup that should have been with them in Kootenai. "Floor 56 is our primary objective, it's well fortified with limited access, Hassan will be there."
Price had taken care of calling for Casualty Evac for Jamie the moment that he had a signal to Washington D.C. he had also contacted Laswell to inform her that the missile was already in Chicago and the trucks in Kootenai were a trap. The paperwork that he was going to be swimming in for this would take him months to get through. He knew he would have to appear in court for Jamie's death, he would need to find out about her family, give them the news in person, then there was another operator he needed to find and his best source of information on Alex was a crumpled mess of bones and metal in a morgue somewhere.
Laswell took a jet to Chicago, established an evacuation of the building that the missile was on, and began gathering intel. Task Force 141 was arriving late to the fireworks, which meant there wasn't time to spare. As the helicopter circled the top of the building, he saw the dimming evening sky before hoping down.
Soap followed him with a grunt, then Ghost followed in silence. Gaz took off with the helicopter to take up a position of the tower directly opposite of them to provide overwatch. Gaz wasn't an incredible shot, but neither Soap nor himself were going to let Ghost out of their sight. They filtered down some metal stairs to the side of the roof, a metal crane and railing separated them from a drop off the side of the building. "Soap, Ghost, hook up," Price commanded.
They both wasted no time attaching themselves to the metal wires and descending the wall upside down. "Gaz, we are set. Do you have visuals?" Price said through the comms system, waiting for Gaz to confirm his communications.
"Affirmative, flashing now."
In the distance Ghost saw the familiar flashing of a white light, similar to the flash of a gun. Before he dropped himself over the railing and began walking down the glass panels of the building. "What you got?" Soap asked, following Ghost and Price at his side.
"Civilians and hostages," Gaz answers. A little blip in Ghost's stone heart causes him to intake a gasp.
"Hassan is buying time," Soap says, and it only makes Ghost angrier. He was out for blood before, but not he was out for absolute carnage. As they moved further down the building, they came to the lit-up windows of the building, several enemies with heavy firearms lay within.
"Bravo-3," Price says, referring to Soap. "Clear out those threats and secure the hostages. Ghost assist."
"Two x-rays below," Gaz said through the comms, "each of you take one and keep moving."
Ghost's eyes swung to Soap who nodded in silent confirmation, before firing off into the glass in synchronization. The two enemies dropped, the civilian man and woman inside turning to the windows as they watched them walk the windowpanes further down, like giant spiders on a strand of silk. The next floor was trickier, as there were four enemies, but Ghost didn't need confirmation this time as he took aim and began popping off bullets at will, shattering the skulls of Hassan's henchmen.
When all four were dead and draining blood onto the maple wood flooring, he swung his eyes to Soap who was just staring at him. That simple moment was enough to solidify the fact that Simon was no longer existent for Soap. Ghost had taken full possession of him.
Walking further down, he could see floor 56 two more windows below. Together, Soap and Ghost took out the five henchmen in the next room with the help of Gaz's direction. Finally dropping to floor 56. Swinging slightly to the right, Soap set a charge on the window while Ghost and Price settled above him. "Charges set, get clear," Soap yelled before he joined them at a safe distance. The explosion didn't even phase Ghost, as it was just another sound rattling around in his empty head.
When all of them had landed inside the room, Kate's voice sounded through the comms line. "John, the missile is in its first stage. Be advised that the controls are not in the container."
"Hassan has to have them," Soap confirmed as he raised his gaze and followed behind Price through the rooms of the floor. Enemies were everywhere, and for all the concern that Price and Soap had for Ghost, they were glad to be in such a bloodthirsty state. He was deadly accurate with his gun, even more lethal with his knife; and he certainly put both of them to work as they moved through the control rooms to the locked conference room that Hassan was in.
Price smacked the door with the blunt end of a breaching hammer, only to be met with silence as they entered the empty room. "He's gone," Soap said. But his eyes were glued to the piles and piles of cash that laid under the screen at the back of the room. Where was he getting all this money from?
"All stations, negative on Hassan, control was a bust," Price said into the comms system, before walking up the window, "Gaz, do you have anything?"
"Affirm, could be a possible visual on the forty-sixth floor, sir," Gaz answered. Soap worked quickly, sliding his pack off of his shoulder and pulling another charge from it. He set it against the window of the room, as Captain Price confirmed their movement.
"Stand back, Captain," Soap said as he took cover behind one of the tables opposite the window. This time the explosion and then crack of the glass was much louder, but even then, Ghost did not flinch or move. There was nothing to be scared of now.
Hooking himself in with Soap, he scaled further down the building to a grand dining room.
The vaulted ceilings of the space took up three floors at least and Ghost could see the enemies moving interiorly. There were so many of them, taking cover around the red painted wood, hiding under the crystal chandelier in the middle. It reminded him of Tommy and Beth's wedding venue from years ago, intimate, and lowly lit with romantic candles and pretty colors.
Jamie's face flashed through his head again as he looked through the windows at the tables that were still set with dinner plates and wine glasses. He would have liked to have taken her to a place like this... had Ghost ever even been on a date before? No, he never had.
And she was dead.
Using as much strength as he could, the butt of his gun slammed into the glass of the window with an unnatural force. Shattering it. Swinging on his repel line with, he became the demon he had embraced. His knife would be dull by the time he was finished with it, his guns would be smoking and glowing with the heat once he was done. He did not think about any of his movements, any conscious thought retreated to the back of his mind as the blood flooded the carpet at his feet. Bloodlust was funny in a way that he loved everything about the way it flowed and bubbled, yet it did nothing to satisfy him, gave him no relief to watch, no solace.
As the enemies came at him, he relished in the darkness that he had shared with Jamie, wallowing in it, allowing it to turn his veins black. It was repulsive to feel, yet it was the only thing he wanted. Her eyes would have stopped it, would have controlled him, reminded him that he was not a monster... but she was dead now, that glint of orange light that was hidden in blue irises was gone now. She had been the single candle in the pit of hell he lived in, thrived in, and that flame had been blown out.
A growl emanated from deep within his belly as they finished clearing the dining areas of all the enemies. Soap and Price only used a fourth of the ammunition that Ghost did. They RV'd at a locked door in the back of the "Employees Only" area, where Soap handed him one of his preloaded magazines. "Good work, LT."
Ghost didn't respond, only took the mag and placed it in the empty pocket of his new tactical vest. Skipping steps as they fled down, he could smell smoke in the air, filtering up the stairs as they descended. A hole was carved into the wall on the 46th floor, a makeshift entrance. Gunfire already reverberated through the room as they entered. The Marines that were on the boats in the canal meeting the henchmen in a violent battle of fire and blood.
"Captain, the missile is launching!" Kate's voice shook as she announced that they were too late. From outside the windows, a flash of white and yellow light lit up the faces of Soap and Price, making Ghost's mask look even more haunting in the darkness of the room. The missile raised from the ground, fire beaming from its backside before it turned on his head, shooting out into the retreating dawn. Remembering the way that second missile had exploded on the oil rig only days ago, Ghost huffed and felt his fists curl with the image of that missile destroying an American city in the same way.
"Fucking hell!" Soap exclaimed.
"Laswell, what's the target," Price shouted through his comms line.
"Unknown, I'm working on it," Kate answered.
"Let's move!" Captain Price commanded as he raised his gun and began to fire at will. The room was so dark that Ghost could barely make out who was who in the chaos. But at the back of the room, was a very familiar bald man holding the tan briefcase that Ghost had been hunting for. He was going to smash it over Hassan's head.
As they took cover behind business desks and open doors, they made their way toward the back of the room. A particularly gruesome sound of a bullet hitting flesh next to Ghost, his eyes retreating from the firefight for only a moment to see Captain Price falling backward on his haunches. A pure and animalistic growl filled the comms set, and Price yelped as he staggered lightly. "Price!"
Gaz's voice was full of concern through the headset, unable to get to his mentor, but Ghost leaned down to see the few drops of blood on the carpet as John steadied himself. "You alright, John?" Ghost asked.
He felt weird talking, felt weird to ask that question when he knew that Captain had just taken a bullet. But as Ghost watched him raise his gun once more, whatever strange awkwardness that had filled Ghost's mouth before turned to sand. He had already lost Jamie; he would be damned if he lost the only father figure that he had ever had. "I'm fine, get those controls, both of you!"
A marine beside Price detached a medical kit from his kit, preparing to help Price, "I got him, you guys go," the unknown marine shouted.
Captain Price's voice was rattled and pained, but alive and just as harsh and commanding as ever. Heading towards the elevator dock, they could see the open doorway that Hassan had climbed through. The elevators were completely stopped, the doors to one hanging open, "he's heading down."
Stepping onto one of roofs of the elevator, Ghost felt the rattling of the machine as it compensated for his weight. Soap hopped on as well and the wires creaked under the strain, both of them exchanging nervous looks. "Let's get this bastard," Ghost said finally. The words felt like foreign objects leaving his lips.
Hopping down one elevator, and then onto another, the two of them stopped when they saw the open emergency door on one of the next elevators down. "On you, LT." Soap waved his superior down. Ghost jumped, falling through the elevator emergency room door and into the cube. Hassan stood with his hands wrapped around the control box, huffing as he backed up against the stainless-steel door of the elevator. Raising his gun, things went into slow motion. Vengeance was pleasurable and sweet, and Ghost could already taste it on his tongue. Bringing his finger to the trigger, he pulled on it.
Click.
He heard the humiliating laughter of Hassan and the distinct ding of the elevator doors opening behind his back, before Soap feet swung into the elevator, right past Ghost's head, planting his feet directly into Hassan's chest. Stumbling back into the hallway, Hassan dropped the controls unit with a gruff yowl of pain. Ghost's eyes targeted the container, falling over his own feet to get to it.
Not looking back, Ghost scooped up the box and ran, avoiding the construction machinery around him. He could hear gunshots on all sides, there was more than one enemy on the floor, but he didn't look back to see if Soap was alright. He had no weapons and the only controls that could stop the missile in his hands... Soap would need to take care of himself. "Captain, I have the controls unit. No weapon, Soap is MIA."
"Stay hidden, get to a safe place and I'll walk you through the DAL protocol," Laswell said, her voice so panicked and shocked that he thought she was choking on something. Stealthily crouching as he moved towards a supply closet on the other side of the floor, he could see the glowing exit side up ahead. Thankfully the construction equipment around him offered decent coverage as he moved silently. He could hear the radios of Hassan's henchmen encircling him, their shadows mimicking ghosts against the white and cream tarps that hung from the ceiling. Silently turning the knob of the supply closet, he crouched on the floor.
"Tell me what to do, Laswell," Ghost said gruffly. She gave him the instructions, asking for certain numbers and lettering in the hyperspace of green and black screens. Ghost pushed all other thoughts away from his mind when he saw a map pop up on the screen, a red 'X' marking the target, "Its target is New Orleans."
"Not for long," Price encouraged as Laswell walked him through the final steps. He named off coordinates for her, then hit some buttons before he was brought to a loading screen.
"As soon as that bar is full, hit the red button, Lieutenant."
Minutes turned into eternity, and in those minutes, he could hear scuffling outside the door of the supply room. Someone was struggling in a fight, grunts and yelps coming from somewhere in the rest of the floor. Ghost had to keep his mind in control, just for this moment. They were so close. The bar crept toward the filled mark at a pace that made Ghost sweat, unblinking as he watched it move, "come on," he gritted. As the loading finished, he smacked the red button on the button board, finally breathing when he sees the screen turn green, confirming the missile had been detonated while still in the sky.
The relief was not long lived, as the door of the supply closet burst open. Ghost leapt from the floor, reaching for a knife in his vest. The knife hit the first armored enemy, square between the eyes, a perfect throw. But the second was followed by Hassan. Using the stock of Soap's stolen M4, Hassan swung and hit Ghost directly in the jaw. "You're dead!"
Tiny balls of darkness filled Ghost's vision, as he tumbled to the ground. He tried desperately to protect his head, but the boot that connected the side of his face and skull blurred his vision further. "You are executioners, you will bleed for what you have done." A bullet rang out from inside the closet, and he felt a searing, unbearable pain in the muscle in his thigh, but he didn't have time to look down and see the blood spreading across his cargo pants.
Another kick, directly into his ribs. He could feel something crack within his chest, a familiar pain of his ribs breaking.
"You and your forces will be resisted until the end," Hassan said. Ghost didn't care about the pain or the fact he couldn't breathe. He was far more concerned with Soap being missing, there was nothing coming through the headset. If Soap was dead... Ghost was dead too. Another kick directly to his temple knocked him unconscious, the world turning black as he flopped from all fours onto the floor.
He could hear shuffling. He could feel moving. His mask was gone because he could feel cool air on his face. "I told you that your nation would see fire!" Hassan screamed as no one. "You cannot stop us."
There was a straggled breath from an assailant caught as Ghost's body stopped moving and he opened his eyes. He was still on the construction floor but now hidden within a well-lit room. Directly to his left was a bloodied Johnny MacTavish. His face was swollen to the point of being unrecognizable, blood dripping from his eyebrow, unconscious. "Soap..." Ghost whispered. "Johnny..."
Seeing Soap's hand that was laying palm open above his head, he willed himself to reach for it. But Hassan's massive boot hit Ghost in the chest again, knocking out what strangled air was in his lungs already. The pain was dull, but his body was unwilling to move as he continued to reach for Johnny. But as Hassan grabbed ahold of the fabric of Soap's cargo pant leg, the dewy flesh of Soap's palm was ripped away from Ghost's fingertips. His thigh throbbed, a small pool of blood had grown in the place where he was laying, causing him to groan as he began to move "Please...don't..." he pleaded, holding his side.
"We are not attacking..." Hassan said as Soap moaned, lifting him by the lapels of his tactical vest. Johnny seemed to be holding himself up but tripping slightly as he was dragged towards the broken window, far above the city of Chicago. Johnny tried to fight, but his eyes were swollen shut, and his hands failed him. Adrenaline sparked in Ghost's system, but he was so gone, so broken physically and mentally. Hassan's steps pushed Soap further and further towards the window, and Ghost could hear Gaz's sniper shots ringing, but they weren't landing where they needed to.
He had spent a year in a prison being experimented on, raped, beaten, tortured, forced to fight and he had never given up. He couldn't give up even when he found his entire family dead, despite staring down at the barrel of a gun, twice. His mothers voice echoed in his head, her face filtering into his mind's eye, "you're my Simon, my boy..."
Tommy in a suite on his wedding day.
Beth telling the family she was pregnant.
Flinging young Joseph into the air.
His friends at an arcade in Manchester.
Meeting Captain Price for the first time.
His first successful mission.
Soap actually making him laugh.
Watching that family take in Riley.
Jamie... the flames in her eyes.
"We are invading!" Hassan's voice rang out and Ghost leapt from the floor. The pain in his leg diminished behind the eyes of the devil and he flung himself at Hassan with a scream that sounded as if two of his voices were coming together in one breath. Soap collapsed beside them as they wrestled to the ground, tumbling slightly so one of his arms was hanging out the window. Trying to keep his balance, Ghost rolled once and then twice, battling for dominance, only to be struck directly in the face.
More black dots danced across his vision, but he caught hold of Hassan's neck and flipped him, quickly straddling his abdomen and lifting one gargantuan boot to his side under his arm. He was completely immobilized.
Something gurgled within him, pulling from deep in his belly. A flame, a white hot, dreadful, searing flame that burned away pain and left fury behind. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!" Ghost screamed as loud and hard as he could before completely unloading onto Hassan's face. Fist after fist after fist, cracking cartilage and bone from him and Hassan alike. Blood shot from beneath him splattering across the black cam cream he was still wearing when the nose was broken. Teeth littered the ground, hit after hit after hit. Hassan's body writhed at first, but with each pummeling of knuckles into his skull his movements subsided. Skin and flesh broke open, revealing cheekbone underneath.
Ghost did not stop; did not wake from the rage he was drowning in. He was repeating something as he broke through membrane and brain matter, screaming something into the air in the room. When the adrenaline subsided and he could finally feel the pain in his body again, he furled his fists into Hassan's now crimson shirt, lifting him his dying form to see Ghosts open mouth. Ghost breathed in through his nose deeply, and screamed as hard and as loud as he could at Hassan's dead eyes. A wail that released and broke something in him. He screamed for what seemed like hours and hours, until he was completely out of breath.
Heaving hard enough, nearly hyperventilating, Ghost stood and stepped off of the dead body under him, his wounded leg trembling with pain. Back turned to the window that blew a delicate breeze into the room, he took one step back, and then another. Soap's body was directly next to him, safe, unconscious but shallowly breathing. Ghost had the reassurance that he wasn't dead. Paramedics would be here soon to help him, since Ghost knew that he was good for nothing when it came to healing his teammates. He was alone at the end of the line, alone at the end of the mission.
He could hear the abyss calling to him as he got closer to the edge, two more limp steps and he could fall backward and let the darkness take him. A picture of a gun barrel and his thumb on the trigger flashed in his head. He had convinced himself not to do it twice before, but that took more strength than he could muster right now. He took one more step, feeling the metal edge under the heel of his boot.
Closing his eyes, he tried to fight picturing how easy it would be, all he had to do was lean back. Jamie's face flashed in his head, her lit up eyes and long locks of hair. Her soft body under his, her soft moans, her perfect neck stained and tainted by his ugly lips. A soft smile unwillingly crossed those lips as her memory passed through his mind, he was honored to have been the last person to hold her.
"Simon..." her voice echoed in his head.
Ghost's eyes flashed open, and his Captain stood in the doorway, holding his shoulder. Reality slammed back into Ghost's body, the agony, the anger, the violence. His eye twitched and he looked back over his shoulder one more time. "Simon, please don't do that," Price begged. Another gust of wind filtered into the room, and he could feel the fingers of the breeze drag his face downward, towards Johnathan on the ground next to his feet.
Kneeling, Ghost removed his gloves and began to turn him over. A pained moan escaped Soap's lungs as Ghost lifted his upper body ever so gently. Refusing to acknowledge the throbbing hot searing pain in his leg, Ghost threaded his other arm under Johnny's knees and lifted him into his arms. Soap moaned once more as his head fell backward against Ghost's bicep, and his arm hung loosely from the side. Taking partial steps, he walked without a word towards Price, stepping around him without even looking at his Captain, "we need medical evac."
The words were haunting.
Price stood completely still for a moment looking at the body of Hassan on the floor, the damage almost unimaginable to his face. "All stations, Hassan is K.I.A. Mission accomplished."