Howl [COD Simon Ghost Riley & John Soap Mactavish AU]

Beast

Current day

Feeding was just habitual at this point, a means by which Simon kept his body functional, his mind sharp. He had fought it for a damn long time, searching and searching for tricks, alternatives. Chasing battlefields wasn't guilt free, but it was the best he'd found. Human blood, before it had settled and curdled, the ones that weren't his fault. Human blood was far more satiating, it helped him heal faster, stay awake longer. He had drank from a few interrogation subjects in his time, just to see them lose their shit. But on leave, in everyday life, animal blood would do. Taste didn't matter, although he had a deep, intimate knowledge of craving. He fed himself with regular food to curb the emptiness in his stomach. The rest of it, the hollow feeling of living in his body, he had decided would never be filled. So he curled up inside of it like an empty tomb and watched for ways to be used. That was the original goal anyway, wasn't it? The reason he had signed onto the program in the first place.

His father had been a monster of a man, different than the monster Simon was now, and it had taken decades for Simon to come to terms with the fact that "serving his country" had not been an act of honor and duty, but of escape. And he hadn't just escaped the constant abuse, he had escaped a mother and brother that needed him. He had escaped a duty more important, a duty at home. When he had returned to help them, they had lost trust in him. And for good reason. He had abandoned them. And then they were murdered by his enemies and he was alone for good.

He ran his tongue over his overly sharp canines beneath a cloth mask. At least he had perfected one thing, a way to hide his face, a persona that allowed it, a reason for people to fear him that had little to do with the truth.

Simon Riley had been through literal, god-awful hell. Name it. Loss, torture, false blame. But there he stood, at attention, with the rest of them. And he was really fuckin good at what he did. That's why his Captain, Captain John Price of task force 141, had chosen him to lead this particular outing. He knew all the details it would entail as well as the men that would be joining him. Sergeant John Mactavish, who he had worked with before, more than once, and two Russian men converted and recruited by Price several years ago. They knew the landscape, spoke the language. They would be useful, if not boring.

Riley, who went by Ghost, had already been to the location once to make sure it was up to par. It wasn't much, a small base, currently blanketed in snow. The snow provided the cover by which they hoped the Russians they were tracking would make the weapon's drop they planned to intercept.

Ghost was more apprehensive than usual. The wilderness they were entering allowed for very little hunting. The small number of people they were operating with meant any move he made would be noticed. And having "Soap" Mactavish alongside meant he couldn't lie. He couldn't scrounge. He couldn't hide. He would have to go in well fed and hope for the best.

Not that that kind of risk would make him say no. Ghost never said no. A little hunger had yet to kill him, or anyone else around him. In fact, he often longed for the pain of his true hunger, to punish himself for the sins he committed all those years ago. For the mistakes he had made. And every good thing he did, every perceived right, was repayment on behalf of himself, his 6 blood brothers, and the evil that had created them. Repayment to who, he had never quite been sure. He figured that if there was a god, he wouldn't have allowed it to happen in the first place. To the universe then, to mother nature for being a true abomination. His unnaturally long life gave him ample time to repay, repay, repay.

"Go. Good luck." Price waved them off. They were hopping a jet from the main base in Germany to the smaller one in Russia.

The other men walked ahead of Ghost, he watched them, his more-than-perfect eyesight picking up on how they moved. Judging potential weaknesses. There were few in a group like this. He wondered who watched for his. If anyone was the wiser. He wondered often if the Captain that had first taken him under his wing had known that something was off. If he had, he never questioned it. Price had never doubted him.