Pattern Breaker

Considering the Possibility of Amore Peribat

This area of Mexico did not leave much to the imagination. It was just sprawling flat land and back roads, nothing to look at and nothing to do.

They were headed to another location Alejandro gave Ghost.

Need to know. Right.

John kept finding himself sneaking peeks over at his Lieutenant.

The sun, now fully exposed overhead, free from the previous night's storms, kept hitting Ghost's face in just the right angle to illuminate his eyes. They were such a bright, clear blue that seemed to challenge the sky for color. His hardshell mask was now firmly back in place. He had on a black hoodie that brought a casualness to the man– despite the supply vest bulking up his frame.

"Oh, fuck," Ghost said suddenly, right as the truck began sputtering.

"What happened?" Soap asked as the truck slowly came to a stop.

"Outta gas."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"Afraid not, soldier. Up for a nice stroll?"

"With you? Never."

"Ain't like you got many choices."

It took them all day to trek across the desert, the terrain slowly changing to green vegetation. They were both parched, cantines empty and stomachs rumbling. They made easy conversion, however, reminiscent of the ones they had while trapped in the city. Eventually they approached a large, run down building.

"I'm starving, Ghost."

"Might be able to find a rat to roast up for ya."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a hamburger, or nice filet-"

"Shhh," Ghost hushed him, crouching down to observe the cardboard laying flat on the ground in front of them.

"Pressure plate," John said quietly.

"Alejandro rigged it."

"Smart bastard."

"There," he said, nodding towards a window, perched high up on the wall– the glass pane missing.

"Little help?" John asked. Ghost crouched down on one knee, John using his good hand to grip the windowsill, placing one boot in Ghost's gloved hands. Ghost helped haul him over the side of the window, John landing on the other side quietly in a squat, gun drawn and eyes down the sight. As he swept his vision over the room, darkening quickly with the sunset, Ghost pulled himself up just in time to see the red laser light land on John's upper body. Rage surged through the Lieutenant's body.

"Don't move!" He shouted at Soap, immediately unsheathing a knife and throwing it full force in the direction of the offending light. The light disappeared, knife burying deeply into the rotted wood on the doorway.

"Who's there?" A familiar voice shouted. Ghost watched Soap's shoulders relax in disbelief.

"Rodolfo!" Soap shouted.

"Soap!" He called back, walking around the corner. He looked at the knife, only inches away from where his head was just a moment ago, and yanked it out of the wood. "Ghost! You're alive!"

"Affirmative." Ghost said, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Good to see you, amigos."

"Igual, amigo." Soap responded, walking to meet the man.

Rodolfo looked at Ghost, holding the knife back out. "Nice throw. Where were you guys?"