Over the pounding of the rain, no one heard the wild thrashing of Shadow-8 as he was dragged into the shop on the corner. A hand was clamped over his mouth, pulling his head to the side to expose his jugular, and he made a muted whimper as a knife was roughly shoved into his neck. His body shuttered and Ghost held the corpse like his breath, watching the white lights of torches pass him by.

"This is Bravo 7-1, in the blind... How copy...?"

Oh, shit. It was Soap.

"Ghost, this is 7-1, do you copy?"

He couldn't reply with the Shadows nearby and he held his tongue. The lights faded from the doorway and he let out a breath. "Soap, this is Ghost, how copy?" He waited for a response.

And waited.

And waited...

"Johnny...?" He felt a nervous pang in his stomach and swallowed hard. "Johny, how copy..?" Fuck. The line was still quiet. The Shadows must have caught up with him.

He laid the body in the corner and he slipped into the darkness, his eyes tracing the alleys and streets through the city beyond. Las Almas was strangely beautiful in the rain if, of course, he could drown out the sounds of civilians pleading for their lives and the ringing of gunfire.

In the distance, he saw a church steeple standing high over the other rooftops. In centuries past, people used to claim sanctuary in them, finding refuge in the walls when the men outside wanted them taken captive or worse; in the present, it was the perfect hiding place from Graves and his men. As he started toward it, he sniffed at the damp air, silently wondering if sending up a prayer to God he wasn't sure existed might actually help him.

Not just him.

Soap.

And maybe Novaleen too.

"Solid."

He started, his eyes shooting open. "He's alive..." he murmured to himself. Ghost tapped the com and sighed with relief. "Thought we lost you. You injured?"

"What's the difference?"

"Life or death. Keep your blood in, you'll need every drop."

"Thanks for the tip." Soap groaned as he stood, squeezing his wounded arm. "Where are you?"

"There's a church. I'm heading to it. Let's RV there." He looked back at the dead body in the shop, realizing he left a knife behind, but with more Shadows approaching, he didn't have time to go back for it. "You'll need to improvise to survive." He slunk through the darkness past another patrol and down an alley, wary of a streetlight that hung overhead.

"Ugh, es pishin' et down oot here..."

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Speak English..."

"... It's raining fucking hard..." Soap growled back.

"Then say so."

"I did..."

"Rain's good," Ghost mused. "Covers your tracks."

"Cover's theirs, too."

"Let's just worry about you, Johnny..."

Soap sighed in dismay, breaking their banter. "Ghost... The Shadows are goin' on a killin' spree..."

"Looking for us."

"Yeah... Fuckin' hell..!"

Ghost furrowed his brows, looking up when he felt a drip on his cheek. "You good?"

"They just executed a couple o' guys over here."

"Advise you move interior if you're not already. It's good cover." He quieted down and continued down the alley to another street. Ghost snapped onto movement shortly in front of him, sighing quietly to see it was a small white dog running through the puddles. It stopped in front of him, its ears pinned back, tailed tucked between its legs and it was shivering; it had probably been frightened by all the gunfire. "Poor sod..." He stepped past it, but when he heard the tip-tap of its tiny feet on the street, he stopped again. "... Come on, mate, I can't look after myself, Johnny, and a rat-dog." The little dog whimpered, meandering in a circle, sniffing at the air uncertainly. Ghost rolled his eyes shut and in a swift movement, scooped up the creature. "Come on..."

"No joy..." grumbled Soap. "Door's locked."

Ghost crawled into a house through an open window, keeping low when he thought he heard someone walking outside the backdoor. "Look for supplies- things you can make tools with." He smirked devilishly. "Welcome to guerrilla warfare..." He stalked up the stairs, hugging the dog closer under his arm and holding his breath as he braced for a step to creak. At the top, he let out a breath and started down the hall, searching the rooms for supplies.

"Creepin' Jesus..."

"What are you seeing?" he asked, opening a cupboard.

"A blood bath..."

"Watch your arse.. You got exactly zero allies down there..."

Soap cocked a brow- Ghost could hear it in his voice. "But we're friends, no?"

"We're teammates," he corrected abruptly. "Friendship's not in the field manual, Johnny."

"Neither is mask making..."

He set the dog on the floor, blinking back the bewilderment he felt sweeping over him. Audacious... How was he supposed to even respond? Cheeky bastard...

The dog trotted down the hallway and he chased after it. "Dog... Dog!" he whispered shrilly. "Get your arse back..."

Soap's com picked up the terrified wails of a small child crying for his mother. Ghost halted in his tracks, listening as the boy's mother pleaded for the life of her son.

"Harold!" His mother's eyes were brimming with tears as she reached out for her husband's arm. "Leave him alone!"

Simon stood against the wall with his fists knotted, watching his mother cower when his father gestured aggressively at her to sit down. He swiftly closed in on him and Simon swung, connecting the punch with the older man's brow. His father clenched his own fist and lunged.

WHAM!

Simon spat a line of blood on the tile kitchen floor and coughed, feeling with his wrist if he had broken any teeth. His father's arm wrapped around his throat and he struggled, blindly swatting his arms behind his head to hit him. "Get off me!" he choked hoarsely.

"Yeah? You gonna swing on me again, you fuckin' wank stain?" Harold threw the young man forward, slamming his body against the dining table. "ARE YOU?"

TH'WACK!

He reeled as Simon hit him in the ear with an open hand before rising up and tackling him, sending both of them careening into the living room. "Fuck off!" He wrestled his way to the top of the fight, hailing down blow after blow on his father's face. "You're not hitting me or mum again! Fuck off, fuck off, FUCK OFF!"

Suddenly, he went flying and landed against the couch with his head spinning. His younger brother stood over him, his fist pulled back for a punch, but he was shaking, his own eyes flooding with furious tears.

"Tommy..."

"Stop it, Simon! You're killing him!" Tommy yowled, his voice faltering as a sob crept up his throat.

"Good!" He pushed his brother off and scrambled for his father who lay clutching his bleeding nose. Before he could land another strike, Tommy pinned Simon to the floor, kneeling on his back and wrenching his arm behind him.

"Please, Simon!"

"¡Por favor, no lastimes a mi hijo!- Please, don't hurt my boy!"

Though the line had fallen silent, Ghost could practically hear Graves staring down at the woman. "...Take the kid and get him outta here," he commanded quietly. "Go."

Ghost drew in a deep breath. "I wouldn't stick around there, Johnny. Might be more trouble than it's worth."

He followed the dog into another room and froze, seeing a young man and two younger girls crouched behind him. Simon raised his hands. "Calma, calma...- easy, easy..." He stepped back, keeping his posture low as the young man brandished a pistol. Damn... He could have used that. He looked around the room and the small dog nestled in between the girls, licking the younger one's cheek with a submissive waggle of his tail. "Looks like you found yourself some company." He raised his heavy eyes to the young man again, giving him a solemn nod of his head."Esta bien. Permanecen ocultos.- It's alright. Stay hidden." He closed the door once more, watching over his shoulder out the window as a couple of Shadows passed below.

"Woof..."

Ghost slipped out another window onto the roof top. "What's the latest?"

"Mercs are killin' everyone in their path... Almost all of them unarmed civilians."

"War crimes..."

Soap looked down at a cop the Shadows had slain and frowned bitterly. "Makes me want to commit a few of my own..."

"Tyranny. It won't stand." He leaped and landed solidly on the next roof, instantly lying flat when two men below him made startled whispers to one another.

"Think we'll get a green light to go after these guys?"

"No more green lights," he murmured into the com. "We're on our own now."

Soap contemplated quietly. "... What about NAG?"

Ghost furrowed his brows. "What about her?"

"You think we can trust her?"

He narrowed his eyes, slowly rising to his feet as he watched the patrol move on. "She's with the Shadows. What do you think?"

"I still trust her. She did try to talk Graves down, after all..."

The house was dark, but he could still see their eyes stuck wide open from the minimal moonlight trickling in through the front door. His mother was slumped in her chair, a shot to her forehead cracking her face in half.

"No..." Simon whimpered, clamoring over the body of Tommy in the entry way to where his sister-in-law lay in the middle of the living room, her arms still wrapped around his nephew, Joseph, their blond hair matted with blood and grey matter. "No..!" He knelt weakly beside them, as he felt the strangest ripple of a laugh forming in his gut as he stared into their silvering eyes. "No, Beth, Joseph, what..?" As he looked around, he felt another laugh shutter through him and he covered his mouth to stop it. "Holy shit, Sparks... He... Oh God, did he..?"

Another laugh.

"FUCK!" He laughed again and clutched his hair with rigid fingers. The man he had served with, the one who had his back in every fight; Sparks, who had just bought him a beer hours before...

His friend...

Ghost sighed to himself, blinking away the memory. "Be careful who you trust, Sergeant. People you know can hurt you the most..."

"Good advice, L.T.," Soap replied. "I wanna be like you when I grow up."

"You wanna be better than me, Johnny..."

"Got my work cut out then."

He scoffed. "That you do."

"Think I'll live that long?"

"Probably not." Ghost scaled down the wall to the street, and snuck past a line of parked car in front of the church.

Soap sounded out of breath when he tapped the com again. "Did you see the caged dog??"

Oh yeah... "Big geezer," he replied casually. "If he barks, shoot him and repo quickly. Don't get compromised."

"You are stone cold, Simon..." Soap watched the dog lay back down in its kennel and quietly stalked out of the room.

He tried to stay quiet, but once he was inside the gates of the Church, Ghost was feeling relaxed. "Johnny..."

"Yeah, L.T.?"

"What has two legs and bleeds?"

Soap narrowed his eyes, feeling he was walking into a trap. "Don't tell me..."

"Half a dog."

"I asked you not to tell me..."

Ghost chuckled to himself, squeezing in through the door. He wound his way up a staircase to the steeple and looked out the window. "Might get a brag rag for this, you know."

"A metal?"

"Chest candy." Ghost settled just out of the light of the window, keeping his eyes keen on the street for Soap.

"I think I deserve one after all this."

"You wanted a win, you got one."

Soap scoffed over the line. "Away n' bile yer heid!"

"English, MacTavish..."

"Sorry, sir, let me translate..." He paused a moment, as if Google translating himself, and finally responded, "Go fuck yourself."

"Much better." Simon rested up against the wall, sniffing at the rain again. "Church is on the north side of the city. I've set up a sniper position in the church tower. Find your way there, and you might just make it."

Soap had gone quiet and Ghost felt his mind beginning to drift. There were so many Shadows in the street, and there were vehicles pulling up now. He spotted a truck and nodded to himself; they could use that to escape later if Soap made it.

No, when Soap made it. He was tough and resourceful, he would make it just fine.

Whether or not NAG would make it was another story. Simon wondered where she was, remembering he had heard a shot after he left the convoy. That couldn't have been her... could it?

"Whaddaya think Graves is gonna do with NAG?"

Speak of the devil... Ghost looked down past the gate at a pair of Shadows meandering the street.

"I dunno. He's pretty upset about it though, he's been irritated since this shit started."

The other Shadow rolled his shoulder. "I figured it's because he lost the Brits."

"Well, that, too, but she wasn't supposed to turn on him."

"You blame her? He was all buddy-buddy with these guys before, and all of a sudden in the last couple hours, he just wants to off 'em? "

The second Shadow scoffed. "I don't see you doing anything about it. If you're on her side, why didn't you buck Graves, too?"

"You think I'm stupid enough to fight that sonovabitch? He'd kill me! I admire her standing up for her friends, but I didn't say her bravery wasn't idiotic as hell..."

Ghost furrowed his brows. So it was her. Then... Where was she? Did he take her prisoner?

Or... God forbid...

No, Graves couldn't possibly have killed the woman he called "sis," there was no way...

He felt a knot in his stomach and swallowed hard to soothe it. She was fine, he decided. She had to be.

"Ghost, you missin' a knife?" Soap asked.

"Several..." he responded slowly.

"Think I found one."

"Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork."

"You came through here?"

"On my way to the church."

"And you left me..?"

"I'm used to working alone." Ghost watched over the rooftops, wondering if he could see Soap from where he was.

"So much for no man left behind..."

"Just get yourself to the church," he snarled. "I'm tryin' to keep you alive and get you here in one piece. One of us needs to survive to tell the tale."

Soap smirked through the line. "Taken a shine to me, then?"

"Not in the slightest." He looked down into the street again and sighed, his mind wandering. "Why do you think they're hunting us?"

"I dunno, L.T. But I can't help but thinkin' they're hidin' somethin'. Otherwise it just makes no sense..."  He was silent once more, this time for a long while before he returned breathless to the com. "Ghost, I killed a Shadow. Took his gun."

"Careful with that, Johnny, guns make noise." He got no response, but didn't hear any shots ring out and assumed the Sergeant heard him. As the silence carried on, he flipped through the channels to listen to the Shadow Company chatter. Nothing important. Just inquiries about where he and Soap were, discussion about whether what Graves was doing was right or not, and one particular question about kilts. Nothing about NAG. He frowned, turning the channel back to Soap. 

"I'm in the coffee shop."

"Get us a tea?" 

He could practically hear Soap roll his eyes. "You're gonna owe me for this."

"Why?"

"We're fixin' each other's problems."

Ghost cocked a brow. "What's my problem?"

"The mask..." Soap purred. "Take it off."

"Show my face?"

"Yes, sir."

He shook his head to himself. "Negative."

"Why not? Are you ugly?"

"Quite the opposite," he jeered. 

"I doubt that." 

Ghost scoffed. "Johnny... town's full o' tunnels. One leads out across from the church. Be advised- the tunnel is flooded. Prepare for a cold swim."

Soap shivered in anticipation. "Can't wait..."

"Keep your guard up. You get caught out there, they'll kill you slow..."

"Mercs or the Narcos?"

"Narcos... They'll take videos..."

"I'll give 'em your email so they know where to send them..."

He felt a pit in his stomach at the notion. "I won't watch 'em..." He wetted his lips dismissively. "More than once anyway..."

"Sick bastard..."

He started, hearing shots ring out in the streets. Ghost's eyes rounded but he couldn't see anything from his position. Shit... Where was he? The gunfire decrescendo and he slowly reached for the com. "You still standing, Johnny?"

"Think I'm clear..."

"Good. Keep making your way to the church." He kept his eyes on the streets, still waiting to see Soap. It was getting too quiet and he felt unsettled. "... Two goldfish are in a tank..."

Soap cocked a brow. "Go on..?"

"One turns to the other and says, 'you know how to drive this thing?'" Soap didn't laugh and he cleared his throat. "Little army humor."

"Very little..." Soap snorted.

"Another?"

The Sergeant shook his head. "No, I've got one for you. Why don't shrimp share?"

"Why?"

"'Cause they're a little shellfish."

Ghost chuckled to himself. "Not bad... We could do this all night..."

"That's what I'm afraid of..."

"Really? Not the boogey man or the dark..?"

"Get off my ass, L.T.," he snickered. "Cuttin' through the shops to the plaza."

Ghost noticed a Shadow looking inquisitively at a shop door and opened it. The hairs on his neck stood up when Soap fell into the street and one of the Shadows bashed him over the head with his rifle. "Fuck!" He looked through the scope of his rifle, quickly leveling one Shadow and aiming at another who ran away for cover.

Johnny sat up, looking around wildly. "Holy hell... Ghost was that you??"

"Who else?" he growled. "No go! Meet me at the church steps; they're coming my way, so watch yourself." He fired at one man advancing on the stairs, taking out his head and the knee of the Shadow behind him. Ghost stepped away from the window as bullets shattered the remaining glass and old frames. He clattered down the stairs and fired out the door, careful to watch for Soap as he mowed down more enemy soldiers.

"Ghost!" Soap called as he advanced on the gate. 

Ghost jumped up and over the iron bars like a cat and shoved Soap's shoulder. "White pickup truck, dead ahead, I'll drive, you take shotgun, and watch your head!"

"On it, sir!" 

They tore down the street firing and dodging bullets as they went. Ghost thrashed open a door and jumped in, the whole vehicle shaking under his and Soap's weight. He panted and met eyes with Soap, feeling a sense of relief. "You made it, Johnny..."

The Sergeant smile tiredly, punching his shoulder. "We made it, L.T." He looked out the back window and rested his rifle on the seat. "Drive, I'll cover."