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Footsteps echo between the colorful painted walls of Las Almas- it's dark, it's raining, and you and Ghost are soaked to the bone and miserable. Heavy pants pull from his throat as he ushers you through another alleyway.
Hanging lights illuminate rippling reflections in the puddles you tromp through. Only a few more miles until you get to the extraction point. It wouldn't have been if not for the sudden shitshow that erupted when 141's troops were outnumbered ten to one out of nowhere, even after weeks of planning.
You'd had no choice but to scatter, being driven in every direction, stragglers picked off one by one, and Ghost had been lucky enough to make it out with you on his tail.
"Keep up," he says, laying a hand on your back to guide you through the dark, and takes off at a heavy jog. You follow. The only sound exchanged between the two of you is the rustle of your gear and gasping breaths as you fight for air.
You run alongside him, trigger fingers resting on your guards, eyes wide and always searching. You don't see anything. But there's a feeling in your gut as you look around at the low buildings around you- this place is too open- that there's something seeing you.
"Ghost," you say, slowing to a rattling stop as you lean against a wall. He doesn't hear you. "Ghost!"
He stops and turns around. Makes a quick, impatient gesture. What?
"Something doesn't feel right," you pant, wavering, blinking rain drops from your eyes. "I think we should-"
P-TEW.
Ghost drops. So do you. The gunshot's echo reaches your ears a moment later.
Concrete crumbles and pours on top of him from a hole in the wall that had not been there a moment before. You lift your helmet from your eyes and squint at him, on his stomach, unmoving. Your heart drops.
"Shhhit." You hear him hiss. Relief floods you down to your fingertips. "You okay?"
You nod. "Y-yeah!"
Ghost inches along the bottom of the wall, neck craned to see where the shot could have possibly come from. He extends an arm to silently beckon you over. You scramble forward.
You slide beside him and a heavy hand lands on your helmet, pulling it back to let you see what's in front of you.
"Stay close to the wall," he says lowly. He removes his hand from your helmet to point at the covered chain-link fence running parallel to it only a few feet away. "Sniper can't see us through this. Keep your head and stay low, you'll be fine."
In a single-file fashion the two of you inch along the wall. The tarp attached to the fence flutters in the wind and rain. It's only a few feet away that the fence covering you ends, but the wall does not.
You reach forward and grab the heel of Ghost's boot, pointing ahead of him when he looks over his shoulder.
"I know," Ghost says, wrestling with the strap around his back to pull the gun into his arms. "There's an archway a few metres ahead, in the wall."
"Seriously?"
"You want to go back?" he snaps. You settle back into the grass.
Ghost eyes the distance between him and the archway. It's not far. Once you're on the other side you'll be completely blocked from the sniper's fire.
"I go first," he says. "I'm not throwing you into this blindly."
He takes a moment to adjust his gear. He takes a deep breath, readies himself, and sprints, ducking through the archway not a second later. The only sound that follows is the pouring rain.
Seemed easy enough.
So you rise to your hands and knees. You ready yourself and- fuck, that distance is small but it's a coin toss.
Ghost's voice comes from the other side of the wall. "You can do this, soldier. Come on!"
Shakily, you blow out a breath. Adjust your helmet. You prepare to sprint. It's just a drill, you tell yourself. Just pretend it's a drill. You'll be in bed by morning.
You take off. Your boots slip on the grass and a palm collides with the edge of the arch, swinging you around the corner. It was only a moment that you faltered. A moment was all it took.
PF-TKK.
The bullet buries itself in the grass before you. Your body slams into the ground like you'd been kicked in the spine. It feels like you were.
The second echo ripples through the air.
"No!" Comes Ghost's voice, grappling your wrists to drag you out of the open.
You're sat against the wall. You don't know what happened until that kick turns into a fire brand twisting through your insides. Your mouth falls open, helmet scraping against the wall as you gasp desperately for air against the pain.
You hear Ghost calling your name through the fuzz. Shaking your shoulders, placing your trembling hands over the quickly growing stain on your uniform.
"-Up," he's saying, "keep the pressure on it. Get up!"
"I can't!" Your voice tears through your throat. Everything burns. Every agonizing breath in causes more blood to gush from the exit wound. Your head drops to look down. The only thing keeping your guts inside of you is the fabric of your uniform. You feel a warm, uncomfortable trickle crawling down your ass- blood from the entry wound.
Ghost suddenly stops fighting with your hands to keep them pressed to your stomach. He slowly lifts a glove to his nose. Breathes in. His gaze grows distant.
Palms pressed against the ground, you look up at him. "Smells like shit?" you guess between your teeth.
Ghost nods.
"Fuck."
Sweat pours from under your helmet and down your face. The soldier in you falls away and is replaced with a sniveling, trembling mess. A sob escapes you as you slump against the wall.
This isn't what you wanted. This isn't what you signed up for. But a part of you knew, from the beginning, that any one mission could be your last.
Nobody's truly prepared to meet their end.
"I'm sorry," Ghost says. Emotionless. He's seen this a hundred times. He'll see it a hundred times more.
You won't make it the last few miles outside the city. You know this. But you pitch forward onto your knees where you let out a cry, leaning against Ghost's shoulder for support. You try to push to your feet. He doesn't help you up nor does he keep you down. He knows you'll tire.
With a whimper you sink beside him. He eases you back against the wall.
"Hey," Ghost says, fingers tapping your cheek to keep you conscious, just a little longer. Blearily you meet his piercing gaze. "You did good. You should be proud of yourself."
"I'm fuckin' scared." Your teeth begin to chatter.
"You're brave," Ghost praises, eyes boring into yours where he hazes out of focus. "Look at me, soldier. You're brave. I'm proud of you."
Something cold, hard, touches the underside of your chin. You tilt your head away from it with a weak cry of terror, eyes squeezing shut.
" Look at me." It's a soft demand, a hand gently guiding your face forward again. "Keep looking at me. I know you're scared," he says.
"Tell me when you're ready."
Your breaths are shallow and hard, raging through your teeth with a force that pushes bubbling blood from your wounds. You stare into his eyes, not daring to look away, the barrel warming against your skin.
"Okay."
A third gunshot bounces between the walls of the city.
Ghost lets your body fall. A long exhale leaves his lips, easing the tension in his shoulders. It's never easy. No matter how many times he has to do it.
He unbuckles your helmet and tugs your dog tags up over your head. Tucking them into his pocket, he does a quick check over his weapons, and begins the rest of his run.