Chapter Text
Chapter One
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Training had gone long that day. Hours of sparring and technique had made her body sore and her head ache. Punch, dodge, repeat. Kit looked at her bruised knuckles as they wrapped around the glass.
The bar was her solitude. A nice gin and tonic, and some shit music over shittier speakers. There was something about it that felt better than sitting alone in her room on base. She didn’t have a liquor cabinet there, so that helped.
Kit tapped her fingers against the glass, listening to the calming tink they made. The liquid rippled slightly as she did. The distant sound of fighter jets flying over pricked her ears, making her turn back towards the door.
The only military in the area should’ve been Task Force 141, tucked away in an old base on the outskirts of town. Kit made a note to check with Captain Price about that once her drink was done. Surely they heard it as well, even out there.
Kit looked back at the bar top. The sound of multiple glasses shattering on the ground made her jump, looking to her side. The group sitting at the table had begun convulsing, most of them dropping their drinks, some falling from their stools to the ground.
Kit stood, immediately going over to them, hands on one of the girls shoulders to support her.
“Are you all alright?” She asked, pressing two fingers to her neck. Still going strong, if a bit fast. Kit looked up, about to shout for someone to phone the police. Her words died in her throat, as she realised she was the only one in the entire place who wasn’t seizing.
Kit stood slowly, letting the girl gently lay on the ground. She tensed at the sound of multiple cars crashing outside. With one hand tentatively at her waist, on the handle of her pistol, she made her way outside.
The streets were similar to the bar, the pavement strewn with convulsing bodies, cars either crashed or stopped on the road. This was bigger than just the bar. Kit walks almost a block down, before she stops. Has it gotten as far as base?
Without a second more, Kit pulls out her phone with slightly shaking hands, a mobile phone that had all of the team's numbers on speed dial. She pressed ‘1’, and held it to her ear. After a minute of ringing, the default voicemail came through.
“Fucking hell,” Kit muttered, ringing him again. Panic was settling in her chest, and she tried to take deep breaths as the phone rang until voicemail once more. Kit cursed again, tucking it back in her pocket. It must’ve already reached base, whatever it was.
Kit ran back to the bar, around the side to the parking lot where she’d left her motorcycle. As quickly as she could, she put her helmet on, and began speeding off towards base. Kit’s heart was hammering in her chest as the stilled lights of the town passed her by.
The roads back to base were the same. People were still convulsing along the streets, cars stalled or crashed. They became lesser as she rode into the sparse forests outside the town. When she approached the gate, it was already halfway open. She rode in slowly, leaving her motorcycle outside the garage, setting her helmet on the seat as she dismounted.
Kit’s hand went back on her pistol, holding it at her side as she slipped quietly inside the building. There was no sound, no sign of life. She crept further in, pulling her pistol out and holding it in front of her as she cleared the rooms one by one.
They were all empty, as she made her way towards each of the team's rooms. Gaz’s was empty, along with Soaps. Ghost’s wouldn’t open, not that it surprised Kit. Price’s was empty as well. The last room they could be in, if they were here, would be the meeting room.
Kit took slow steps as she approached the door, a creek in it showing light. She stood to the side, peering in. She vaguely saw someone slumped in the corner of the room. She stepped forward, pushing it open.
When she pushed the door open, it was a sight. Price was face down in his papers, Ghost was slumped against the wall on the floor, and Soap collapsed in a chair, all seizing.
Kit ran over to Ghost, pressing a finger to his pulse and shaking him.
"Goddamnit, LT, wake the fuck up!" Kit yelled, her pistol being slotted back into its holster at her hip. She could feel tears beginning to prick at her eyes, but willed herself to stay calm. His pulse was the same as the girls at the bar, steady, but fast.
“Ghost, what is going on? Please wake up,” she pleaded, sitting back on her heels. She was about to turn around, try and rouse Price or Soap, when they all stopped convulsing at once. Her eyes stayed on Ghost, roaming his masked face for any sign.
“Riley? Simon, are you alright?” Kit asked, her stomach churning as he blinked, righting himself against the wall. She glanced back as Price and Soap sat upright in their chairs. Ghost lifted a hand, Kit looking back over at the movement, and lifted the mask off of his face.
“Ghost, what are you—?”
Without warning, Ghost leant forward, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers. Kit pushed him away, falling backward onto the floor from her heels. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Ghost’s now confused face. Her words jumbled together for a moment.
“LT, what the fuck was that?” Kit said, breathless from the sheer bewilderment of it all. She pushed herself to her feet, looking back at Price and Soap, who were blankly staring at the two of them. She felt a tremble in her lip as they stood, Ghost silently standing from the floor behind her.
“Right, you lot need to tell me what is going on right now,” Kit spat, looking wildly around at the three of them. Ghost put a hand on her shoulder, and Kit jumped, stepping away from him, now standing in the doorway.
“It’s alright, Kittredge,” Ghost’s deep voice cooed. It was so unlike him it made Kit’s chest tighten. She felt a trembling breath claw at her throat, but swallowed it. Her hands were clenched at her sides.
Ghost took a step forward, reaching out for her. Kit turned and sprinted down the hallways, back to her room. She locked the door, pulling the chair from her desk to prop it under the handle. Her breathing was getting shallower, as she pressed back to the corner of the room, sliding down the wall to the ground.
A soft knock came at her door, but the handle didn’t move. They weren’t trying to come in, and Kit didn’t know if that was a relief or not.
“Kittredge, it’s alright. We’d just like to talk to you, and explain some things,” Ghost said softly from outside. Kit shook her head to herself. It wasn’t him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the Ghost she was used to.
“I don’t care what you have to say, you aren’t my Riley,” she called back. My Riley, what was she saying? She’d think of that later, once all of this was settled. It sounded like he took a seat outside, against the wall.
“We understand this might be scary. But I can promise that you are safe with us.”
We, us? What was he on about? It was making her head spin. She’d never heard Ghost so calmly spoken in her life. It sounded as if his personality had been dampened, if not erased entirely. It made her chest hurt.
“We see you may need some time to yourself before you face this. How would you feel if we gave you the night, and came back in the morning to talk?” Ghost asked, kinder than she’d ever known him to speak. Kit shook her head again, leaning her forehead on her knees.
“You’re not Ghost. You’re not Simon,” Kit repeated, mostly to herself at this point. If he wanted to sit outside and wait her out, he could.
“We are speaking to you through him. We have his memories. We know how much he cared for you, and respected you. We know he doesn’t want you to be afraid,” Ghost explained. Kit looked up, staring at the light shining through under the door, a faint shadow of someone sat beside it.
“What are you talking about?”
“We are a shared consciousness. The sort of virus spread through the air, with those planes you heard at the bar. Now everyone, or almost everyone, is a part of us,” he continued. Kit wanted to scream. How would Ghost know she heard the planes at the bar? He could assume, surely, but he said it in such a way it was almost as if he’d witnessed it himself.
“You’re a hivemind? A goddamn— a goddamn space disease got spread around, and now everyone is part of this hivemind?” Kit asked, not believing it. They had to be playing some sick prank on her. It wouldn’t explain the bar, or the people on the streets leading back to base. But it was all she could think of.
“Yes, we are. I’d assume you don’t believe us, but we could prove it to you,” Ghost replied.
“How?”
Ghost was quiet for a moment.
“At the bar, you ordered a gin and tonic. You came in around nine, and sat third from the right. You were tapping your fingers on the glass, before the joining began,” he recalled. Kit felt more panic brewing in her chest, a tingle going along her spine.
“You were in the grocery store last week. You spent a few minutes in the fruit aisle, picking through oranges. Then you bought a bouquet of flowers, purple hyacinths, for the kitchen on base. The clerk remembers seeing your lip piercing, and thinking it suited you,” Ghost continued.
There was no logical way Ghost could’ve known that. She never told the team when she was going out, or what she was buying. Maybe some of what he was saying about the collective consciousness was true.
“Okay. Okay, fine, you’ve got me there. You know things you shouldn’t. That Ghost shouldn’t,” Kit replied. This whole situation shouldn’t be possible. A virus, a hivemind. Kit stayed quiet for a moment.
“This individual, Simon, he’s known you for a few years. Since your Captain assembled the Task Force 141. You’ve grown closer over the missions you’ve been on. He values you greatly,” Ghost said.
Kit stood slowly, walking over and removing the chair from the door. She unlocked it, one hand still at the pistol on her hip, just in case. Kit opened it slowly, watching as Ghost, or them, or whatever she should call it, stood to meet her.
“Hello Kittredge.”
Kit had barely registered that he’d taken off his mask before. She’d seen a glimpse of him unmasked once before, when they went to take down Graves. He still had the same rugged face, scarred and beautiful in its own way. Kit took a moment to stare at it.
“Should I still call you Riley?” Kit asked. Ghost glanced down the hand at her pistol, before looking back at her with a gentle smile. Kit couldn’t help but think how it suited him, to smile, though unusual.
“You can call us whatever you like. We know you called this individual Riley before,” he replied. Calling him Riley was more of a nickname for him than Ghost was. Calling him Riley was her own special way of making him individual, to her. More important. Kit didn’t have time to think about that right now.
“Okay. Riley. Riley,” Kit said to herself. Her mind was still spinning, a headache branching from the side of her eyes. Kit glanced behind Ghost, down the hallway.
“Price and Soap are with you? And Garrick?” Kit asked, her hand relaxing on her pistol. Ghost nodded.
“All of the 141, excluding yourself, are with us,” he replied. Kit nodded. She shifted on her feet. Any kind of buzz the gin and tonic at the bar had given her was worn off now. God, she needed a cigarette. Kit turned around, going to her dresser to pull her pack of cigarettes from under her socks.
“Kittredge?”
Kit ignored him, tucking the pack into her pocket, and walking past Ghost at the door. She began down the hallway, headed towards the back door by the garbage. That was typically where she went to smoke when she didn’t want to be found.
“Smoking really isn’t good for you, Kittredge. Ghost always wanted you to quit,” he called after her, footsteps following behind. Kit turned around, still hesitant to trust what he— they, were saying.
“Don’t follow me. If you do, I’ll kick your ass,” she called over her shoulder, pushing the door open with her shoulder, and leaning against the wall outside. Ghost didn’t follow.
Kit tilted her head back, pulling out a cigarette and her lighter with practiced ease. She put one between her lips, and lit it, taking a deep puff before blowing it skyward.
None of this made sense. Some sort of virus that took over everyone, and made them a part of a collective hivemind. They had everyone's memories, thoughts, and knowledge. Ghost, Price, Soap, and Gaz were a part of it. For some reason, that even they didn’t know, Kit wasn’t. Why?
Kit took another few deep drags of her cigarette, feeling the cloudy haze set over her in relief. She tilted her wrist up, looking at the time on her watch. 10:37 PM. It was early for her, but sleeping sounded heavenly. Kit took another long drag, before stamping out the cigarette, and heading back inside.
Kit walked back down the hallway, where Ghost was still standing beside her door. It made her hesitate in her step, but she kept on.
“How are you feeling, Kittredge?”
Kit shook her head, walking past him into her room. She deposited the pack back under her socks, tucking her lighter where it usually sat on her bedside table.
“Stop calling me Kittredge. You— he always calls me Kit,” she replied, taking her pistol from its holster, and setting it on her bedside as well. There was no way in hell she was sleeping without it close by. Not like it wasn’t usually.
“Alright, Kit. Are you feeling alright? Is there anything we can get for you?” Ghost asked, staying carefully in the doorway.
“Nope. Just— how about you-you leave me be? Hm? Let me sleep, and just... fuck off, for a while?” Kit spat, turning to face him. Ghost looked almost hurt, before it was masked with that same pleased indifference he’d been sporting all night.
“Okay, Kit. We’ll leave you be. We’ll check on you in the morning, alright?” Ghost said, giving her a soft smile. Kit shook her head, a sick feeling tugging at her chest.
“Not you. I don’t— I don’t want to see him. Riley,” Kit said tensely. Ghost nodded. The impersonal nature of his speech made her heart ache. Staring at one of her closest friends without him behind it hurt more than she’d like to admit.
“Okay. Who would you like us to send?” Ghost asked. Kit thought for a moment. On the occasion that this was temporary, she wanted someone she could trust. Just someone who wasn’t Simon.
“Send Price,” Kit said, stepping forward, and closing the door on him. She could hear him linger outside for a moment longer, before walking off. Kit let out a breath, before walking over to her bed. She stripped off her shirt and pants, before climbing into bed. Her hand slipped under her pillow, finding the handle of the knife under it. The entire night, she kept a hold of it.
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Kit woke up in a start, the morning sun peaking in through her blinds. Her hand was clenched around the knife, held out to the empty room. Her breathing was heavy, sweat beaded on her brow. Kit dropped the knife onto the bed beside her, wiping it from her face.
Her dreams were littered with convulsing people, clawing at her once they woke. Ghost’s face haunted her, an uncanny grin on his face the entire time. She took a deep breath.
Kit’s morning routine had never been the image of perfection. A quick face wash and ruffle of her hair made her ready for the day. She put on her usual outfit of jeans and a tank top. Tucked the knife into her back pocket.
Kit put on her boots as well, before opening the door. Outside, there was a platter of warm breakfast. Orange slices, toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs, and a steaming cup of tea. Her favourite. She looked both ways down the hallway, but nobody was there.
Kit grabbed the platter, taking it with her to the kitchen table. The base was empty, just her and the echo of the plates as she set it down. Clearly they had prepared this. Kit grabbed a fork from one of the drawers, poking at the eggs.
Her first thought was poison. If this was spread as easily as flying it over with planes, then it could definitely be spread through food. Her mind flashed back to the night before, when Ghost had kissed her. She shook her head, pushing the thought away.
“Good morning, Kittredge. We know this individual referred to you with your full name,” Price said behind her, smiling as he stood in the doorway. Kit jumped slightly, but relaxed. She had told them to send Price.
“Christ. Morning,” she replied. Price glanced down at the table with the untouched breakfast.
“You’re not hungry?” He asked, looking back up at her. Kit shook her head.
“I’m not eating something you’ve prepared,” she replied. Price nodded, stepping into the kitchen. “I’ll make myself breakfast. You can eat that if you want.”
Price took a seat at the table. Kit walked over, turning the kettle on after rinsing it out with new water. She got a pan, washed it, and scrambled some eggs.
“We’re sure you have many questions. We can answer them, if you’d like,” Price said. He sounded about the same, his usual comforting tone with her similar to before. It felt better than talking to Ghost.
“Yeah. Spent all night tossing and turning, thinking of questions,” Kit began, stirring the eggs around. “Firstly, Ghost— you said that almost everyone was ‘joined’. Almost everyone. So, how many aside from me aren’t?”
Price smiled.
“That’s a great question. Currently we know of twelve others who aren’t affected,” he replied. Kit nodded, grabbing a plate from the cabinet above. She scooped the eggs onto it, before placing the plate on the table across from Price, and taking a seat.
“Twelve others. Where’s the nearest?”
“The nearest human to you is Inga Ozols in Bauska, Latvia,” Price replied. Kit nodded along, pushing the eggs around her plate, skeptical still, before taking a bite. Her mind churned with a million questions.
“Okay. There were people outside the bar, whose cars had crashed. There must’ve been people who died. How many?” Kit continued. Price was silent for a moment.
“Yes, people did die as a result of our joining. Around 886 million, unfortunately.”
Kit stood abruptly from the table, lunging over to the sink before puking into it. Price stood from the table, coming up behind to pat her back. Kit spun around, grabbing his wrist, and holding him away from her. He relaxed his grip, expression hesitant.
“We aren’t going to hurt you, Kit. We only want what’s best for you,” Price said calmly. Kit let him go, wiping the side of her mouth. She leant back over the sink, washing her mouth out, before she sat back down at the table. Price stood for a moment, before sitting down again.
Over the next hour, Kit asked questions, and Price answered all of them. The names and locations of all the survivors, if there was a way to reverse the joining (there wasn’t), what kind of organization the hive mind was running on, and so on.
At the end, Kit was nestled into the raggedy couch in the common room with a half-empty cup of tea, while Price sat upright in a chair beside. It was barely past ten in the morning, and already Kit felt like the day had gone by.
“How are you feeling, Kit?” Price asked. Kit sighed, taking another sip of tea.
“I feel... I don’t fucking know,” she replied, leaning back against the couch cushions. Price scooted forward in his chair, leaning on his knees.
“Can we ask you a question, Kit?”
Kit looked over at him. It was still strange to hear this collective mind talking through her Captain. She nodded.
“Why don’t you want to see Simon?”
Kit’s hands tensed around her mug. She set it down on the coffee table, sitting up against the cushions. She was quiet for a long moment, staring at the tea settling in her cup.
“I just don’t,” she said finally. Price shifted in his seat, hands clasped in front of him.
“We know that you two are the closest with each other, out of the 141. We know he would very much like to be with you,” Price replied. Kit looked up at that.
“Be with me?” Kit asked, feeling a stutter in her chest.
“For you to be joined with us. With him,” he replied. Kit nodded, looking down at her tea again.
“There isn’t a reason we can imagine that you wouldn’t want to see him. From your time together, you seem particularly fond of him.”
Kit cracked her neck, looking over at Price. He smiled gently. It felt more natural on him, but there was still something missing behind his eyes.
“It’s not Ghost anymore. The way he was talking, you were talking. It’s not him,” Kit said. Price nodded.
“We understand where you’re coming from. But we can assure you, it is him, as a part of us. He has a say,” Price replied. Kit shook her head, standing from the couch.
“It isn’t,” she said, before walking back down to her room. Kit grabbed a duffel bag from her closet, stuffing clothes into it. She could hear footsteps approaching, but she ignored them, stuffing some of her personal items into a backpack at the end of her bed. Her lighter, cigarettes, some knicknacks she brought along.
“Kit, where are you going?” Price asked from the doorway. Kit slung the backpack over her shoulder, zipping the duffel bag and picking it up as well.
“Anywhere but here. Don’t follow me. If you do, I will kill you. Even Price you,” Kit spat, pushing past him and heading to the garage. Price took a few steps, before stopping. Good. They were listening.
Kit walked over to one of the trucks they had, loading her duffel into the backseat, and her backpack into the passenger’s side. She grabbed the keys from the hook on the wall, opened the garage door, and climbed into the front seat.
Kit turned the ignition, putting it into reverse. She looked over her shoulder, and saw Ghost standing outside, beside the motorcycle she’d left out there last night. These assholes were really trying everything, weren’t they?
Kit looked forward, backing out of the garage without a second glance to the tall man. She put it in drive, and tore off down the road.
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