Soap is breathing heavily as he makes his way down an alleyway slowly. The bullet hole in his arm has started to slow him down. He leans against the wall he was using to support his weight, sitting back on his heels. Soap's face contorts with pain, his eyes screwing shut as he uses his injured arm to click through radio frequencies.
"...Sending tranpso to your location, for all prisoners, stand by for-"
Click.
"...need reinforcements in the North Plaza, now..."
Click.
Soap presses down on the button to his comms, "This is Bravo 7-1, in the blind...How copy...?"
The entire task force had an emergency line that no one else used in case shit went down. It just shows that Price was always prepared for the worst. No one answers.
"Ghost, this is 7-1, do you copy?" Soap's voice raises slightly. Still no answer. "Fuck...Where are you Ghost...?"
He tips his head back onto the wall behind him before using it to lift himself up. Soap only makes it a few steps before he's tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. The blood loss was making his head fuzzy and his body weak.
The chances of survival would continuously go down from this point on if he didn't wrap the wound.
"Soap- This is Ghost, how copy?" Soap barely heard Ghost's voice through all the pounding in his head.
"Johnny...?" Soap touched a hand to his arm and looked at how much blood had coated it from the small contact. He was too out of it to respond.
"Johnny...How copy?" Ghost's voice sounded strained and a little slurred. He must've gotten hurt somehow. Soap didn't really check to see what Ghost was doing when the man told him to run, he just listened.
"Solid." Soap manages to get out and he could hear Ghost sigh in relief.
"Thought we lost you." He can hear Ghost trying to cover his concern, probably not wanting to make Soap worry too much.
"You...you alright, Ghost?"
"No, bloody yanks injected me with something..." Fuck. So Ghost wasn't as better off as Soap was. Soap stands with some heavy effort and keeps walking down one of the streets.
"Commander Graves..." He hears some people talking and crouches down low against a building wall.
"2-0...Your men cordon this area...Yeah? If Soap, Ghost, or Hassan's here, let's keep 'em contained...Yeah?" Soap's eyes flare with anger when he hears Graves's voice. The fucker had just grouped him in with a fucking terrorist.
"Wilco! My 2's- Lock it down!"
"Roger that!"
"Yes, sir!" Soap keeps walking, ignoring the rest of the chatter coming from the Shadows.
"You injured?" Ghost asks after a long moment of silence.
"What's the difference?"
"Life or death. Keep your blood in, you'll need every drop." Soap rolls his eyes at that one.
"Thanks for the tip."
Soap finds himself looking down another alleyway. More Shadows are grouped up at the end of it.
"Where are you?" Soap doesn't mean for it to come out as a whine, but it did. Ghost doesn't reply at first, probably taken aback. He coughs.
"There's a church. I'm heading to it. Let's RV there." There's a long pause before Ghost speaks again. "You'll need to improvise to survive."
YOU ARE READING
You Have a Heart?: (Soap x Ghost)
Fanfiction(A re-telling of the Modern Warfare 2 campaign) All Ghost had ever known was war. He's sworn to himself never to trust anyone anymore. So when he meets Soap for the first time during an op, he's put off. He doesn't know what the guy wants from him...
