Phantom ~ [Simon Ghost Riley]

VI. A promise to Soap

Ghost has me pressed up against a wall, his gloved hand still covering the bottom half of my face. I only now notice my ears have started ringing.

He listens in silence and a sound comes from just outside the house. In one swift movement, he grabs the door behind him and closes it shut, pressing his large frame into mine.

I realize he has hidden us in a tiny closet.

"Be real quiet now. I am going to remove my hand from your mouth," he says low.

I stare up at him, my eyes probably widened.

He slowly removes his hand and places it against the wall next to my head. It's the only way for him to keep steady in this enclosed space. Even though we're most likely both uncomfortable.

"Stop breathing so loud," he rasps. I could probably feel his breath on my face if it weren't for the mask.

"You could've been a little more gentle," I rasp back.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?" He lowers his head, trying to intimidate me.

My back is fully pressed against the wall so I have nowhere to go.

A creaking floorboard sounds from inside the house. Ghost's hand flies over my mouth again. This time I don't protest. His other hand moves to my gun strap, slowly sliding out my gun. He presses it into my hand, after which he grabs my wrist. He positions us so that I'm pointing the gun at the door behind him, my hands behind his back. He's pressed into me even closer now, allowing me to shoot whenever needed.

The person outside moves through the house slowly. Their footsteps quietly echo through the house, the creaking floorboard not exactly helping them.

Ghost lowers his head to my left ear, "It's Soap. Shoot the second the door opens," he whispers as quietly as possible, the proximity sending goosebumps all over me.

The floorboard creaks again, this time right outside the closet. Before I know it, the door handle moves. I shoot multiple rounds without a visual, making sure to keep my gun low so as to not hit them in the face.

I don't know who it is, and I don't know if I hit them.

"Steaming bloody Jesus," The person says with a thick Scottish accent. I quickly realize Ghost is right. It is Soap.

And I've hit him. Multiple times.

Ghost immediately hops out of the closet, leaving the place where he just stood feeling weirdly cold.

"Johnny," Ghost says, a hint of amusement sounds in his voice.

"Fuck you two... Bunch of campers," he says with giant blobs of blue paint covering his torso.

"You gotta do what you gotta do, Johnny," Ghost continues.

"How did you know it was him?" I ask, stuttering.

"You did?" Soap asks, his eyebrows raised.

"You should change up your walking pattern. I've recognized it perfectly by now," he responds, looking at Soap.

His gaze switches over to me, "Decent shots," he mumbles.

Decent shots? Who does this guy think he is? I didn't miss a single shot and I wasn't even looking. I squint at him, and he side-eyes me in response.

I'm not wanting to be around this asshole any longer. I place my gun back in its strap and start heading for the door.

"Sorry Soap. See ya," I say before heading out. I can't help but sigh.