Chapter Text
Two down and one more to go.
In Soap's opinion, collecting Intel was one of the most boring and monotonous tasks to be assigned while working for the SAS. But you would rarely see him complain about it given the fact that the last time he did, he was rewarded with a harsh scolding from Ghost that had him rethinking his behavior for almost an entire week after that.
To be fair, the jokes and the antics had reached an unprecedented level the last time, hence why Ghost's outburst was very much justified.
Currently, Soap was looking around in a rundown three story building that looked more like an abandoned house than anything else. The dilapidated shack of loose brick and splintered wood was located all the way at the top of a hill surrounded by a field of weeds, making for an eerie sight.
The location was supposedly used as a secret outpost to store private data caches, which of course meant those data files had important information on them that posed many potential threats if leaked to the public eye.
It was a shitty outpost at that.
The building seemed like it was one sneeze away from completely crumbling and coming down around soap so that's why he was choosing to take very light footsteps at the moment.
"Couldn't have found someplace better to hide?" The scot mumbled under his breath and cursed when he felt the wooden floor creak ominously below his feet.
"Any word on intel yet, Soap?" A familiar thick British accented voice mumbled into his comms.
"Still lookin' Lt." Soap found that he couldn't keep the irritation and impatience from bleeding out into his voice.
"You've only got one flash drive left, Johnny."
"And then we're out of here." The brit supplied, seemingly noticing the other man's impatience to just be done with the mission.
"Oh yeah? Gonna give me a reward when I find the last one sir?" Soap questioned with a teasing lilt in his tone.
"Keep it tactical sergeant" the other man playfully reprimanded.
"I'm just riling you up sir. It's good fun." Soap said, sure that the other man could hear his smirk over the comms.
"And what's so fun about it hmm?"
"I suppose I just like getting reactions out of ya."
"Hmm good to know. That's very telling, Johnny." Ghost replied, sounding so very confident and self assured.
"What do you mean by that?" Soap questioned, genuinely curious but still keeping that cocky tone of voice he used when he was bantering with Ghost over the comms.
"Maybe I like doing the same to you. And from here it seems like I have the vantage point." Ghost hummed into the comms with that sweet honeyed voice that Soap had grown so weak to over the past few months.
"And why's that sir?"
"Remember, I'm always watching. You don't think I see you but I do, Johnny." Ghost practically purred the last word of the sentence and Johnny shuddered from just those words alone then that was no one else's business except for him.
It just served as a reminder that Ghost, having the ever vigilant presence that he did, was always lurking in corners where nobody else would see. Always observing even when Soap may be unaware. Any sane or normal man would have been promptly terrified of creeped out by that fact but fuck if that didn't just turn Soap on even more.
The Scottish man's deep gulp and prolonged silence said everything that needed to be said for Ghost.
"Don't go looking for trouble and expect to find it Soap."
"Jesus fuckin' christ Lt, you're a piece of work you know tha?" Soap chuckled, trying to ease the heavy tension that threatened to suffocate him alive.
"Don't I know it, Johnny."
The comms were mostly quiet after that conversation. A joke and a quip here and there but most of the time was filled with Soap grunting and sighing, defeated and frustrated at finding absolutely no intel.
Another empty drawer. Soap's patience was wearing thin. And to make it all worse it felt like with every step he took the wood creaked beneath his feet, offering him no solace in the moment.
All the places that had looked so promising before, seemed to be misleading him on purpose. Hidden trap doors leading to nothing but bricked up walls. Desks hidden in tiny closets that held nothing but a few pieces of lint and loose change.
Soap felt like he had hit a dead end.
Sighing out loudly and putting his hands behind his head in frustration, the scot closed his eyes and tilted his head up towards the ceiling. After releasing a long and exaggerated exhale he opened his eyes to find an off looking ceiling fan placed right above his head.
Only two of the blades were left on it which seemed odd enough but the closer soap looked the more perplexed he grew by it. Then something caught his eye. Right next to the dimly lit bulb in the middle there was a black string like object that looked like it was taped or attached.
Then the gears started turning. As Soap's brain started to catch up to him, the more panic he felt drop at the pit of his stomach.
They bugged the whole place.
"Ghost we have to get-"
Before Soap could even get the words out, a loud crashing erupted from the floor below him. Then the telltale sound of a door slamming back on its hinges could be heard.
They had been made.
"Johnny I've got eyes on two hostiles incoming. Both heavily armed."
Jesus, how'd they get to the stairs that fast?
"Copy that LT" Soap tried to keep the barely concealed panic out of his tone, attempting to keep his voice calm and leveled.
He knew that the hostiles would most likely be coming from the front staircase that stood right next to the front door, given how quickly they were advancing on him. That left the back staircase that was located in the kitchen all the way at the very back of the house.
But Soap couldn't guarantee that the hostiles hadn't split up and gone separate ways. He didn't even know how many there were but if he had to guess just by going based on the footsteps, he'd say two maybe even three.
"Lt, you got eyes on em now?" Soap inquired while looking out the front window that gave him a wide view of the fields below.
"Negative sergeant. I'm in a blind spot here."
"Gonna have to get yourself out of there on your own, Johnny."
"What happened to always having my back Simon?" The scot teased with an over exaggerated hurt tone.
"I have faith in you." "You've gotten yourself out of worse situations before."
Shit. If Ghost didn't know how much those five words affected him.
Familiar memories of blood soaked streets and a nasty bullet wound to the shoulder tugged at the corners of Soap's mind but now was not the place nor the time.
"If you can make it down those steps and onto the first floor I can cover you there, but I can't do anything for you now from here, Johnny."
Amidst those words that were being spoken in that deep silky tone, the more the other man found himself feeling more and more reassured by the moment. Ghost's familiar thick accent becoming a means to sedate and satiate the Scottish man's nerves and anxiety that were attempting to wrack his brain.
Soap wished that Ghost would never stop talking.
Finally, deciding on the best course of action, Soap replied, "On my way out, Lt."
The back stairs were probably going to be a safer bet than taking the front stairs so he'd have to take a risk and pray that the hostiles hadn't split up and taken two separate staircases.
Soap made his way down the long hallway that connected to the stairs at the very end of it. He could have sworn that there wasn't this much shattered glass and rubble scattered across the floor when he first made his way up there.
Once he finally arrived at the top of the staircase, Soap checked his surroundings thoroughly and got his pistol out just in case. Then, as quietly as he could and with as much precision as he could muster, he brought his left foot down onto the first step to test his weight out. When no sound came he brought his other foot down to rest next to the other and took it as a sign to go ahead.
But as soon as both feet were brought to the second stair, a creak that was loud enough to echo sounded down the walls of the staircase. Almost immediately the sound was answered from a shout somewhere downstairs and Soap winced.
"Check the second floor!"
Soap didn't even have time to react before he heard loud footfalls incoming on the staircase he was currently at.
"Shit I've been made Lt." The Scottish man swore into the comms.
"Where are you right now Johnny?" Ghost inquired, but before Soap even had time to answer he was met with the sight of one of the hostiles running full force at him, knife clutched in one hand.
Blindsided by the sudden charge, Soap barely had time to aim his weapon at the charging man. He fired once and completely missed, his bullet only making contact with the wall beside him.
Before he knew it there was an elbow to his face and blood being spit from his mouth, causing his gun to fly out of his grasp and across the room far away from his reach.
Enraged by his own injury and the surprise attack, Soap taunted the merc.
"That really the best you can do?"
Immediately his taunt was met with the other man swiping his knife close to Soap's face but swiftly being blocked by the Scottish man's arm. A swift kick to the legs was attempted but luckily Soap pushed away just in time.
With no time to strategize or plan, Soap was once again charged by the merc, this time the merc going straight for the throat with his knife. Immediately Soap's fighting instincts kicked in as he continued to block and evade the merc's knife attacks through shielding himself with his own arms and quick thinking. Soap had never been more thankful for all those training exercises and hand to hand combat lessons in his life.
Finally, as a kick to the shin and a final headbutt was delivered to the merc, Soap was sure that he'd be down for the count. Unfortunately his self assurance was promptly shattered as the merc suddenly launched up from his faux crouching position and dug his knife deep into the flesh of Soap's right shoulder.
The sharp pain that traveled throughout the Scottish man's arm was immediate and he must have let out a scream because Ghost's worried voice coming out of the comms was the only thing he could hear at the moment.
There was no time to decode what Ghost was saying on the other end as Soap was tackled to the ground, punching all the air from out of his lungs. The cold press of the other man's fingers then made their way around the Scot's throat as he choked and gagged for air he was yet to receive.
Then it dawned on him.
Both of the merc's hands were empty.
Where was the knife?
Amidst the struggle, Soap completely failed to notice that the knife that had been plunged deep into the flesh of his shoulder still remained impaled in his body. Not wasting a single second, the Scottish man gripped the handle of the knife and pulled for all he was worth.
The overwhelming pain of the knife being pulled out of his shoulder was nothing compared to the relief he felt when he could finally breathe again as those cold unforgiving hands finally left his throat, the merc quickly realizing what was happening.
However quick he was, he wasn't quick enough to defend himself from the knife going straight through his neck. It only took a few seconds and his heavy body was slumping forward as Soap attempted to hold his dead weight bearing down on him.
"Johnny! I need a sitrep now!"
"Johnny?" Ghost's concerned voice poured through the comms and rattled around in Soap's disoriented brain.
"I'm good Lt. Took a hit but I should be- "
Of fucking course
Even more hostiles had made their way up the stairs to investigate and were met with the sight of their buddy's limp and bloody body laying next to Soap's.
All at once the three hostiles made their way into the room while Soap frantically scrambled to sit up and defend himself. But he never even got a chance to land one single punch when the floor once again creaked under his feet. Except this time the creaking was followed by an unpromising crackling like sound. As soon as the hostiles charged the scot, he felt the floor beneath him give way as he fell a whole story down to the first floor.