Chapter Text
It's the middle of summer when the world ends. Soap goes to sleep sweating with the box fan on and he wakes up to the sound of screaming, to a sky burned permanently red, to a world on fire.
Some people say that it's a radiation spill, others say that it's nuclear fallout, and the man on the radio says that it’s all a hoax. Either way, Soap doesn't care. What does it matter when his family's dead and gone? When the earth has been burnt to a crisp? When the air burns your throat to even breathe it in?
Nothing is the same as it was, and nothing matters anymore.
Really, Soap's just goin' through the motions.
*
The once plush forest behind Soap's home has long since blackened and charred. The trees stand tall and thin as spiders' legs. The ground is coated in layers of ash that crack beneath his feet and there's nothin' living in it. Not a single soul, but Soap would rather take his chances hunting for food than sitting on his ass and starving to death.
It's been one week since he last ate, and judging by the tremor in his hands, he only has a few more days left in him, so he arms himself with an old hunting knife and travels deeper into the woods, hoping to find something, anything, that he can get his hands on.
Hours later, he hasn't found a thing. He's sweating from the exertion, dizzy from nausea, and just so tired.
Soap stumbles forward, catching himself on a blackened tree stump before falling against it. The red sun hangs low in the sky, drooling droplets of blood into the vast darkness of night. He's tired. So tired. And his body aches all over. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to rest for a minute.
Only for a minute.
*
Soap expected to wake up to the familiar burnt sky, not on the concrete floor of a dingy warehouse and tied up with a crowd of other terribly unlucky individuals.
He counted six, including himself, all in varying stages of health and distress. His hands were behind his back, attached to his ankles, like a hog and there was a gag in his mouth, a thin strip of leather that tied in a hard knot at the back of his skull.
His hunting knife was gone and Soap's hands flexed uselessly against their binds.
"Whe'rewe?" Soap tried, but his mouth was dry and the words came out too strained and muffled to be understood. Unsurprisingly, nobody answered him, although a terribly frail woman began to cry, filling up the warehouse with echoing sobs that frightened Soap to his very core.
A few of the others were sniffling and holdin' back tears. One man in particular, began reciting a muffled prayer that Soap recognized the cadence of from Sunday school. Hail Mary, full of Grace, Soap thought. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our-
The doors to the facility swung open, casting a red glow onto all of them before snapping shut.
There were three men, all dressed in black from head to toe except for the largest one, with a skull mask on his face. He hung back from the other two, like a ghost in the shadows.
"You're probably wondering by now..." One man said with an American accent. "Just what you're all doing here." He surveyed the room, hands on his hips, taking in all of their terrified faces with an air of nonchalance. "Well, I'm not the kind of man to sugarcoat things, so I'm gonna tell you. People are starving, there ain't nothin' to eat anymore, and well, to survive you've gotta be creative."
He motioned towards himself and the other two. "Us? We're survivors, so we got creative. That's why we've made it this long and you all-" He waved to them. "Are here. You're the prey and we're the hunters. Creatives and uncreatives. Got it? Tonight, you'll be taken back to our campground, fattened up a bit, and then gutted like pigs..."
The sobs started back up again, and Soap felt his heart sink in his chest as the reality of it all started to creep in. He had heard rumors before, about people huntin' people. About Cannibal Crews snatching up bodies left and right with the intention of eating them but he never thought- never even imagined that it would happen to him.
Soap watched hopelessly as the people nearest him were hoisted up and taken outside of the doors one by one. Suddenly, a hand gripped him by the arm and Soap thrashed wildly, doing his best to wriggle free, damn near tearing his own arm out of its socket when the man in the skull mask appeared, shoving the other black-clad shadow off of him with a snarl.
"Hands off. He's mine."
The man held his hands up in apology, "Sorry Ghost," before moving on to the next person until one by one, they were all taken away, leaving Soap alone with the mysterious Ghost in the quiet, dark of the warehouse.
"I've been watchin' you."
He spoke in accented English, curiously watching Soap with a tilt to his head. The whites of his eyes stood out against the stark black of the warehouse and Soap did his best to wiggle free, but the knots weren't budging. To Soap's horror, they were actually tightening with every movement that he made.
Ghost put a foot onto Soap's chest before shoving him onto his back.
"Did you know that? Since this whole thing started. I've been keepin' tabs on you."
Soap bit at the gag in his mouth, attempting to bare his teeth, but he could do nothin' but shout an unintelligible bastard through it.
"You're a survivor." Ghost knelt down, applying pressure to Soap's chest, pushing out the air from his lungs. "Like me."
'M'nothin' like ye.'
Soap wanted to scream.
"Are you hungry?" The man reached into the pocket of his black cargos and pulled out something wrapped in a paper towel. He began unfolding it, revealing several strips of what Soap could only guess, was human meat. "It's jerky, see that?" He dangled it over Soap.
It had been smoked and dried in herbs and spices and it smelled divine but he couldn't- he wouldn't. Soap's stomach twisted and let out an involuntary growl.
"I'll take the gag off, yeah? And you can have some of it if you're a good boy and yuh don't scream. Got it?"
Soap shook his head no but the man didn't care. He shoved Soap's face against the ground before reaching for the knot at the back of his head and slipping the gag free. Ghost grabbed a hold of his jaw and forced Soap to face him.
"Open wide."
He kept his mouth clenched shut.
"Come on, I know you're starvin'. Been watchin’ you, remember?"
Ghost's gaze hardened at Soap's defiance.
"Eat it, if you know what's good for you."
Soap shook his head. Ghost's grip tightened, hard enough to make the bones of his jaw ache.
"I can be mean. Do you want me to be mean?"
Ghost didn't wait for an answer before pinching Soap's nose shut. It was hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Soap flinched and did his best to jerk out of Ghost's hold but there was no use. His lungs began to burn and Soap couldn't help but gasp for breath. The larger man shoved the meat into his mouth and Soap bit down hard on Ghost's index finger, refusing to let go, sawing into the meat and the leather of his glove, tasting the savory spice of it all and damn near salivating before pain erupted on the side of his face.
Soap let go as Ghost backhanded him again. He spat out the jerky.
"It's just meat, darling," He consoled. "Thas'all it is."
"It's people," Soap hissed. His face felt like it was on fire. His arms had long since lost their pins-and-needles sensation and were now, frighteningly numb.
"Doesn't matter. Meat is meat. You'll learn that soon enough, now come on."
Ghost stood up and retrieved the jerky before straddling Soap again, keeping him pinned down with the bulk of his weight before slowly rolling his hips forward. Soap flinched at the first touch of his hard cock against him. Christ, this wasn't happening to him. It couldn't be. He'd wake up tomorrow, to a familiar blood-red sky and then he'd-
"Open up."
Soap refused and Ghost thrust forward, pressing the length of his hard against Soap's hip, letting out a soft breath before stilling.
"Alright then." Ghost pinched his nose hard enough to break. Despite the pain, Soap held on for as long as he could, bucking up against Ghost with the hopes of shoving him off, but all it did was bring their hips closer together. Ghost let out a frightening noise that sounded like a groan and Soap stilled with a small whimper. His lungs were burning, vision going dull and spotty, and then- he took in a shameful breath.
Ghost pressed meanly into the hinge of his jaw to keep his mouth open before dropping the meat in and clamping his mouth shut with bruising force. Deliriously, Soap thought about his childhood dog and the way his nan used to shove pills down her throat.
”Chew. That's it. Now swallow.”
Soap gagged as the meat got stuck in his throat. It felt like every fiber of his being was simply refusing to.
Ghost let out an amused huff. ”If you puke it up, I’ll make you eat it off of the ground.” He squeezed Soap's jaw again, shaking him for emphasis. “Swallow.”
And Soap did, with a teary-eyed gulp that left him feeling sick to his stomach and out of his head. How did he get here? How did he get here? Howdidhe-
”Was that so hard?” Ghost gave him a gentle pat on the face and wiped Soap’s tears away with a leather-clad hand, cooing softly and muttering words under his breath that Soap couldn’t quite comprehend.
”I feed you, you feed me, yeah?” Ghost said, capturing Soap by the chin and forcing him to nod despite the fact that he was no longer capable of forming words. "Good. Now that we understand each other, let's get you up and on the road."
*
“What’s your name?”
Ghost wasn’t so cruel as to keep Soap hogtied for the hour trip back to base and he had readjusted his bindings so that his ankles were now tied together and his wrists corded through the passenger seat rest.
“Cat got your tongue?”
He’d been quiet ever since they left the warehouse behind, all dead-eyed and sweaty, disassociating a little bit despite the fact that Ghost hadn’t even hurt him. Not really. The only thing he’d done to the man was feed him, and this was the thanks that he got?
His silence was quickly becoming a source of annoyance for Ghost. The whole reason why he’d chosen to spare him from the rest of the fodder had been on account of his fighting spirit, not his cowed silence.
Ghost’s hands tightened on the wheel. He brought the car to a sharp and sudden stop.
“Answer me, or I’ll eat you alive,” Ghost spat. “I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.”
Soap swallowed thickly, it took him several seconds to form enough saliva to even speak.
”You don’t already know it?” Soap managed to croak.
”No,” Ghost scoffed. “Or else I wouldn’t have asked. I said that I was watchin’ you, doesn’t mean that I know your name.”
“Soap.”
”Pardon me?”
”It's Soap.”
”Soap,” Ghost started the car back up. “What kind of a name is that?”
It took him a while to answer, long enough that Ghost felt the familiar sparks of anger prick up his spine again.
”It's a nickname.”
”Yeah?" Ghost let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax. "What’s your real name then?”
”Tell me yours first, Ghost.”
There he was.
“I haven't got one.”
”Doesn't surprise me,” Soap scowled, “Monsters don't have names. They don't deserve them.”
Ghost shrugged. “People have to eat, Soap.”
”Not other people.”
”Who says?”
”Who- who says?! Every-bloody-one!”
"So you're sayin' you'd rather starve?"
"Yes!" Soap shouted, red-faced and tied hands clenching into fists. "I'd rather starve than eat anyone!"
Ghost smiled behind his mask.
"You already have."