Phoenix in the Light

Shock and Awe

Writers Note: Please do not hate me. I'm sorry.

Trigger Warnings: Major character death, blood, grief, emetophobia. 

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The ringing of the gunshot was still fresh in my ear when time stopped. Slow motion didn't even begin to describe the vision of Soap looking down at the red geyser that flowered out of his chest where the bullet had impacted his plate carrier. Perhaps, if he had been further away the vest would have saved him, but a fifty caliber revolver at close range split the Kevlar right down the middle. There was a moment of pain registering on his face, then astonishment, then fear.

Then nothing.

I panted in defeat, watching Soap's knees buckle and crumble, his body limply roll to the left of the Konni soldier that held him. "Soap! Soap!" I screamed for him, but he didn't move... his eyes wide open and expressionless where his cheek pressed against the ground. "No! Johnny!"

The flash of gunfire and an explosion of bullets over me alerted me to the fact that I was no longer alone. Makarov rolled off of me, grabbing the MTC-762 that I had disarmed from him, letting loose on the rest of Task Force 141. Curling onto my side and protecting my head from the cover fire, I concentrated on putting the pieces of what just happened together in a way that made sense. Price and his three SFO's breaching the tunnels Soap and I had entered from, battle cries emanating from their throats. But I was lost; my clavicle broken, my hands shredded, my heart broken.

The seven Konni soldiers surrounded him, backing away from the bomb as lines of bullets struck the heavy armor and brick walls. "Retreat!" I heard Makarov scream as both Gaz and Ghost took cover behind a few wooden pallets, the host of metropolitan police converging with them. "Blow the place!"

I took the moment of distraction to bring myself onto all fours, the pain in my hands and shoulder had my vision blackening, but I shook away the disorientation and confusion as drool and tears wetted my face. Bloodied, I crawled like a feeble animal to Soap, a pool of blood forming under his body. "Soap," I tried to say, grabbing onto his boot and using his body weight to pull myself closer to him, "Soap."

All I could say was his name, other words were lodged in between the part of my brain that regulated speech and emotions. As I crawled closer to him, the sound of trains screaming and gunfire overpowering the sound of my sobs when I saw his lips blue and eyes lacking movement.

"Johnny," I heard Ghost exclaim as the sound of gunfire died, silence floating on the air like a god of death. "Phoenix!"

Pushing on his shoulder, I turned him slowly onto his back. But there was nothing there, no sound, no grimacing, no pain. But the hole in his chest was grotesquely crimson, the black windbreaker shining with red wetness and moisture. "Oh fuck," I whispered my hands becoming stained with the fresh blood that covered his entire body, knees slipping and sliding in the pool of crimson, "Soap, can you hear me?"

Someone's hands were on my back, hooking themselves under my arms, pulling me away but I clambered with them. Fighting off the monster that was trying to take me away from him, "get off me! Get the fuck off me!"

"Phoenix, he's gone! The bomb!" Gaz screamed into my ear, the panic of his shaking hands grabbing onto my clothing now, trying to force me up.

Gone? No he wasn't gone.

Soap wasn't dead.

He couldn't be dead.

Hauling me to my feet with a force I didn't think humans could conjure, I saw trails of bloodied footprints follow us. Although my body fell backwards with him, my eyes stayed on the puddle of blood that was only spreading across the pavement of the train platform. The gunfire had now ceased and Makarov left with the wind that followed the trains.