Vengence

                                    

                                          
Authors Note: I wrote this song listening to Lana Del Ray's "Pretty when I cry" on repeat. I'm already planning the next fanfic, at least the beginning but with MW3 coming out in November. There will be one more Chapter after this and then an Epilogue. Then the next fic will start. Ghost is just such an insanely fun character to write. 
TW: Ghost struggles with suicidal contemplation at the end of this chapter.
Vengeance was so satisfying. Ghost bathed in every day of his damned life; chewed, sucked, and swallowed it whole. He would let it sit in his stomach and fester until it turned to poison and killed him. But he would welcome that death, welcome the misery with open arms if it meant that he could stop seeing her dead face every time he closed his eyes.
Whomever had command over death was evil and cruel. But that deity, person, energy was also fucking hilarious. Because while destroying everything that Simon was within the skull mask, they had left a little piece of themselves behind. A dark little sliver of anguish that could be called upon in moments like this. After his family had been murdered, he had summoned that little piece of death that was left behind, Squeezing the life out of Manuel Roba had been the closest thing to heaven he would ever come close to.
Whoever said that revenge satisfied nothing was a damned liar. After he had watched that little glimmer of light dim in Manuel's eyes, he had gone completely berserk. Rearing back his upper lip and digging his teeth into the fatty tissue of his neck. Like a vampire, possessed and demented, he had swallowed the blood of his enemy. But the things he imagined doing to Hassan made that seem like child's play. Trivial. Merciful.
In the darkness of his own mind, the autopilot light blinked like a strobe light. No other thoughts passed through his mind other than spilling the blood of the man who had started all of this. He could picture it already, the blood, the guts, his knuckle burying themselves deep into the tissue and bones of Hassan's face. He saw nothing but red.
They had left Kootenai only hours ago, stopping only to refuel the helicopter as it took them to Chicago. Damage control was provided to the entire team in those fifteen minutes of rest. Damage control was the best way to put it, because it was not consolidation that Ghost needed and Price, Gaz and Soap knew that. When Price had carefully stepped close to Ghost who had exited the helicopter only for the purpose of punching a metal post until his fingers cracked, Ghost had turned and nearly wrapped his fingers around Price's neck. Price had thrown off Ghost's hands, putting a single pointer finger in his face as Soap and Gaz both stepped to intervene. "You finish this," Price growled, "you finish this mission and I'll consider not discharging you for disobeying orders."
Ghost said nothing, only heaved breaths of air that were thickly laced with a rage that was unnatural and inhuman. Soap's accent was much calmer as his hands reached for his best friend, "Simon-" Ghost's eyes flicked to Johnny, and he could no longer speak. There was nothing behind those eyes, no person, no fire, no hatred. Soap breathed heavily, trying not to push the animal any further, "she would want you to finish this, we have a missile to find, people to save."
Gaz nodded and checked on the captain who waved him off. Price was equally as shaken by Jamie's death. He was her Captain, she shouldn't have been alone on the top of that tower, he should have posted someone with her. Maybe if they had stayed on the other side of the bridge they could have gotten to her faster and called for a medical evacuation faster. Her death was on his hands and his hands alone. He had lost soldiers before, several of them, but there was something about this one that did not seem fair. She had been forced to be here, even when she decided to stay on her own volition, she didn't have much of another choice.
Despite his initial dislike and distrust of her, she had proven herself useful more than enough times to prove him wrong. He liked being proven wrong, it meant that he would never overestimate someone. He had never had his team react to a comrade's death in the same way either. Soap and Gaz seemed to filter the loss with an emotionless stare and disbelieving temple rubs. But Ghost... Ghost's reaction actually scared Price. Terrified him.