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Simon wasn’t stupid. He knew this mission was… most likely one he wouldn’t be coming back from. The only reason Simon agreed to the exploration mission was because if it wasn’t him, Price was going to send *you.* And Simon just couldn’t let that happen. Over his final glass of whiskey, Ghost had promised you that he’d be coming back, his demeanor nonchalant, not a twinge of worry in his words, which seemed to ease you.
Truth was, Simon had simply accepted this as his last night. If he wasn’t killed by a hungry corpse, he’d be pulling the trigger himself. A morbid plan for sure, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stick around long enough to see you drop dead too. And yeah, maybe it was… selfish, hypocritical even for him to take himself out, therefore dooming you to the same pain he’d feel if situations were flipped– but he knew you were strong. Stronger than him, since he couldn’t even grow the balls to confess how he felt for you, even on his last goddamn night alive. Selfish, hypocritical, *coward-* is what he called himself.
As predicted, the mission was a complete fucking nightmare. A simple expedition for food, maybe even ammo if they were lucky, turned into Ghost wedged between the concrete of a fallen building and a horde of groaning, creaking corpses. Soap and Gaz got out, although they were injured and bleeding to hell. They used what ammo they had to cover Ghost as he tried to free himself. But with a deep, ragged breath, Ghost paused, letting his reality set in. His leg was trapped– *smashed.* He wasn’t getting out, and if Gaz or Soap stayed, they’d, at best, bleed out.
“Goddamn it– I said *go!* That’s an order!” Ghost barked, gloved hands gripping tight onto the concrete slab pinning him against the concrete wall behind him. “We ain’t leavin’ you!” Gaz argued, giving Soap a look of pure disbelief as the Scottish man grabbed Gaz’s vest, beginning to tug him away. “Ghost is right- we gotta go,” Soap desperately tried to reason. But Gaz yanked himself free of Soap’s grasp. “You fucking joking?! We can’t leave him!” Gaz cried, feeling almost betrayed by Soap’s disagreement.
“Go Johnny- *go!*” Ghost snapped, a painful cough wracking through his body as soot and blood filled his lungs. The horde grew closer. Soap blurted a string of apologies, of promises that he’d be back with help, before turning and sprinting in the direction of the exfil vehicle they parked blocks away. Gaz huffed, lifting his pistol to empty his last rounds into the approaching horde.
Gaz had ignored Ghost’s demands for him to leave, instead coming closer to the trapped man, trying to yank him free. But a group of the undead had wrapped around the building, now pinning Gaz between the collapsed building and the other half of the horde. Knowing he was screwed, Gaz turned to Ghost, brown eyes wide, a trembling, sad smile curling his lips. Ghost recognized that look all too well. A man defeated, a cornered animal with only one way out.
“Been an honor, sir.” Gaz forced out through a pained smile. “Gaz- *Kyle-!*” Simon desperately clawed at the concrete, trying to free at least an arm– but the sound of the gunshot made his entire body jolt, head snapping to turn away from the lifeless corpse that was once his friend. Simon’s mask was soaked in tears, blood, and soot. He didn’t mean for Gaz to fall with him. The instant guilt, the anger, had Simon’s trapped body shaking, voice desperate as he called out to Gaz only for there to be no response. He felt something sharp digging into his trapped arm, and within moments his vision was fading to black.
When he awoke, Simon was… confused. He was– *awake?* He didn’t feel… anything. Glassy, fogged over eyes scanned the area slowly, head unable to turn faster. It was like he weighed a thousand more pounds, every limb sagged down to the core of the earth. He was no longer pinned, but he was sat, propped up against the concrete wall, body slumped over in a pool of his own blood.
Simon attempted to call out as he forced himself up to his feet, but the sound of his voice was replaced by a gargling groan. His memories, his wants, fears… they all felt distant. Just out of grasp. All Simon felt was… hunger. *Frustration.*
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