When's the next chapter of No rest for the wicked coming up I neeeed it T-T
It's very much in the works, but life has been kicking my ass lately - promise I am making progress even if it's slow. I rly want the next chapter to be Good, but that's also slowing me down rip
Here's a sneak peak of chapter 12 to make up for the wait:
The pair had been waiting for well over an hour now, huddled close to keep warm. Soap’s head dropped with sleep more than once, but he quickly startled awake each time, despite Simon’s reassurance that it was okay if he napped.
Oh well, if he wouldn’t sleep, then he could answer something that had weighed on the lieutenant’s mind since their bomb had been placed.
“When you told Gaz that you needed to be here to set off the explosive,” Ghost said, earning Soap’s attention. “That wasn’t actually true, was it?”
Johnny blinked in surprise. “Why? What do ye mean?”
“The tripwire, Johnny.”
“Ah.” The smaller man squirmed slightly under Ghost’s reprimanding stare. “Well, maybe we don’t need to be here to set it off, exactly, but it’s good tae have eyes on the situation, aye?”
The winning smile following the words had Simon’s stern facade melt away easily.
“Ye know I hate bein’ benched, Si,” Soap defended with a dramatic arm gesture, immediately wincing when he pulled on one of his recent wounds. Ghost rolled his eyes. “Besides, we’re small in numbers. Each one of us counts.”
“True. Even two injured and retired, not to mention mentally unstable and emotionally compromised ex-soldiers.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Soap grinned enthusiastically, clearly choosing to ignore the dry sarcasm lathering Simon’s statement. The grin only grew when Simon cracked a small smile of his own.
“Well, until backup arrives, you’re right. Each one of us-”
“Sorry, what was tha’?”
“Ye just said somethin’ incredible, Si, I’ll need tae hear it again.”
Ghost sighed. “I said ‘you’re right’, Johnny.”
“Ha, there it is,” Soap cheered quietly. “Could get used tae tha’.”
“Would say it more if it wasn’t so rarely true.”
“Och, shut yer puss,” Johnny chuckled, burrowing back into his spot against the warm body beside him. His nose and cheeks were pink with cold, despite working with a smaller supply of blood than usual. The battered form was more susceptible to cold after the ordeal it had been through, and Simon had accepted his role as personal heater. Usually it was the other way around.
“As I was sayin’,” Ghost continued. “I agree that we’re useful here while our numbers are so small. But if backup gets here in time, you an’ me are getting the hell out. Understood?”
“Sir, yes sir,” came the muffled reply from the face pressed against his winter jacket.
With a small hum, Simon lifted his hand to rest on the back of the other’s head. Layers of clothing separated them, preventing him from carding his fingers through the dumb mohawk like he wanted to, but he still felt the body against him relax at the contact. Maybe the stubborn Scot would finally succumb to sleep.
The winds were biting at his own bare face. It shouldn’t feel strange, not after years of civilian life without the fabric hugging his features, but it was different when he was wearing his gear. The get-up seemed incomplete without the mask.
He hadn’t been lying when he told Soap that it was due to airflow; even now, his lungs were still greedily lapping up the oxygen he had so sorely missed. But it wasn’t the whole truth.
Ghost had risen from the grave way back then. He needed Simon to be the one to do so this time.
“Hey, Si?” Soap sounded much too awake. His mind was probably as restless as Ghost’s own.
“Thank ye fer findin’ me. Thought for a second-”Johnny swallowed when his voice thickened. “Really thought my last words to ye would be- would- That would’ve… I couldnae stand that.”
He didn’t need to say the words. Ghost knew all too well what he meant.
“A file. There was a sentence written in cyrillic, but- I think I know what it said.”
“Hell awaits you.”
The EMP had cut off their communication then, had stolen Johnny away, leaving his final words to ring in Ghost’s head like foreboding. During his long trek through snowy forest, the sentence had played like a broken record. He had strangled that nagging fear at the back of his mind that he would never hear Johnny’s voice again; that one day, all he would remember of that Scottish lilt would be how wrong it sounded curled around those words.
In the end, Ghost would have torn apart the world in his search, if it meant that Soap could drown out his senses with that voice again.
“I’ll always find you.”
He met Johnny’s eyes with steadfast conviction, when the man leaned back to look at him. Whatever Soap found in the dark eyes staring back had him smiling softly.
“Aye. You will,” he said. With a teasing glint in his eye, he added: “Sap.”
“Mm, that’s your fault. I was very cool before we met.”
“Right. Nothin’ cooler than having fifty dad jokes ready to go.”
“Worked on you, though,” Ghost winked, relishing in Soap’s fond eye roll.
“Lucky fer ye tha' I have terrible taste.”
“Likewise. I fell for a grown man with a mohawk”
“Aye, embarrassing,” Johnny chuckled. “M’happy it didnae scare ye off.”
“Me too.” He pressed a kiss to Johnny’s forehead.
“No Rest for the Wicked” chapter 11
“So what now?” Eggs was the brave soul who asked what they were all thinking.
Gaz hummed, lips thin. He looked back to Soap.
“You seemed like you had a plan?”
“The beginnings of one,” he agreed, sitting up straighter again. “But, well, ya ken my plans…”
“They’re risky as all hell,” Gaz smirked. “But better than nothing, which is what I’ve got currently. What’re you thinking?”
“Until now, Solovyov has held the advantage. Everything’s been part of his initial plan: Fakin’ Yuri’s call fer help, Price’s disappearance, the library… But now he’s left scrambling to figure out something new, and I bet he sucks at that. If he was an intuitive, quick-on-his-feet kinda guy, it wouldnae have taken him seven years to set this shitshow into motion.
“But we have the upper hand now. He thought he’d get us all with that bomb, but failed tae account fer one Simon fuckin’ Riley.” John poked Simon’s cheek lightly when the man scoffed. “I’m no’ happy with ye going rogue and entering without backup, love, but it certainly fucked up the doctor’s big scheme.”
“Eggs, don’t take that as a lesson,” Gaz warned the young private. “Following my orders is normally a very good thing.”
Soap looked back to the former fort, now a debris pile.
“For the first time we have cards to play that he doesnae know about.”
Ghost lifted his head from where it had rested atop Soap's. “Us.”
“No Rest for the Wicked” chapter 10
Please, let this be another nightmare.
Ghost let out a painful cough, his ribs loudly protesting the jostle. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark space. The very small, very dark, very… coffin-like space. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-
He squeezed his eyes shut promptly, attempting those breathing exercises he used to do after bad nightmares or occasional flashbacks. It usually worked better when Johnny did them with him. His heart’s speedy beats struggled to slow down this time, as every sense that trickled back to him were like his worst night terrors realised.
His mouth tasted like dust and blood. His nose quickly filled with an iron smell, alongside that of his own musty exhales caught in the balaclava. The sound of his shaky breaths seemed so incredibly loud to his own ears, and he was painfully aware that each intake of air was leaving behind less oxygen in the closed space.
When feeling slowly filtered back, so did the sharp sting of unknown injuries.
His heartbeat wasn’t slowing. He needed to get out.
“No Rest for the Wicked” chapter 9
Ghost narrowed his eyes at the sight of an old fort up ahead. Just like Yuri had described it.
In his mind’s eye he still saw the frozen pool of blood that had surrounded the base of an unassuming pinetree, once he had reached the place Soap and Yuri had split up. There had been a lot of the solid crimson. If Johnny hadn’t gotten help, there was a fair chance he was…
There hadn’t been a body. Until Ghost saw a body, he would assume Johnny lived, still. He had to.
Blending in with the shadows, he slinked silently forwards, prepared to carve his way to the man he loved.