Core Gems
So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.
Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.
Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.
However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.
In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.
Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.
The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.
Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.
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Haha wouldn’t it be so weird if when soap was taken and brainwashed he was constantly being compared to this soldier named “ghost” haha
Anyways explicit descriptions of psychological torture and violent intrusive thoughts under the cut
He would be beaten and berated constantly. why wasn’t he stronger than ghost, why wasn’t he faster, more skilled, better, stealthier, healthier.
Ghost could’ve done better in worse conditions.
Ghost has done better in worse conditions.
Why was soap not better even after all this?
It drove him up the wall, the way he would wonder who he was, seething and bleeding by the lip. After all that he’s gone though, all that he’s endured, everything.
Why wasn’t be better? Why can he never, ever be better?
They drove his sanity to the ground, spat and kicked at it until there was nothing but a shell of who he once was, and rebuilt it to fit their ideals. Soap couldn’t remember who he was before this, before the experiments. He couldn’t think, do, say anything without being ordered to do so by someone else.
Some days, soap would pull on the thin stripe down his scalp, eager to find some semblance of control over himself, even if it were pain. He would always get punished.
“It was the only thing he can and will recognise him by.”
“Ghost likes that on you.”
It made him hate the Mohawk even more.
He hates Ghost. He was sick of it. He was done waiting. He was done being compared to. He was done with being second to him. He wanted to pull him apart limb from limb, feel the hot blood spill over his teeth and he rips his throat apart, hear the sickening crunch of his neck being twisted, feel the smooth muscle of his skin ripple and tremble in fear of the one that he was supposedly supposed to be stronger than. Soap will never, ever get anything else in his life but the pure, white-hot rage of revenge. He maybe thinks this had lingered on since he was younger, before everything. It felt like an old friend, more so than his other emotions.
His first mission.
He will be better. He will be better. He will be the best. He will be good. This might be his only shot. This is. He will be the best. He will succeed. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail.
He runs into ghost.
At first, he didn’t know who he was. Soap was in a room with a few others, guns up and masks drawn, ready to shoot anyone who tries to come into the room. They had been infiltrated, and soap wasn’t told more than that. He didn’t really need to know more. Shoot the hostiles, keep people safe. Suddenly, bullets start to rain from outside the door, and soon enough, more and more bodies start hitting the floor. Soap does not panic. He hides behind a bookshelf, waiting.
A big ass motherfucker in a skull mask walks into the room and it looks like the shadows are warping to his presence. Soap does not panic. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, flicking it up and holding it ready. He waits patiently until he stalks near the bookshelf, tightening his grip on the knife. They make eye contact, and through the skull mask stained with blood, he can see jet black eyes staring at him in shock. Death incarnate. Soap does not panic.
“Joh-”
Soap quickly slips out of his hiding spot, wrapping a forearm over his neck and attempting to jab the knife right into his socket. He feels a hand grip tightly onto his forearm, and he goes weightless. All the air escapes his lungs as his back slams against the floor, his head spinning. He screams at himself to get up, fight, be better, before he hears the familiar crackle of a radio.
“Ghost, how copy?”
Ghost.
This is Ghost.
Ghost just fucking flipped him.
Soap does not panic. He does not panic but he feels a chill go down his spine as he sees red, scrambling back up onto his feet. The adrenaline starts to kick in now, and he lunges at him, ripping the radio off his vest and slamming it on the floor. He’s not completely sure why he did that, but in all fairness soap feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, if his captors haven’t done so already. He punches Ghost, wincing slightly as his knuckle hit the cheekbone corner of his stupid skull mask. Soap starts to reach for his gun before Ghost punches back, hitting the mask clean off his face, pushing his back to the floor, one hand on his wrists. Soap starts to get really agitated now. After everything that he’s gone through, he’s still not good enough to beat ghost. He still hasn’t improved. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He makes eye contact with Ghost and is slightly taken aback when he is reflected with an equally crazed stare.
“Johnny.”
What the fuck?
Soap doesn’t say anything. Ghost’s eyes are brown, not black. Why hasn’t be killed him yet? Why isn’t Soap struggling? Ghost has blonde eyelashes.
“Where have you been?” To soap’s absolute horror, those brown eyes start to become glossy. He flinches back as if he’s been hit, and grits his teeth. No shit, he’s been here the whole time, where else is he supposed to be?
Soap surges forward and headbutts him in hopes of him letting go. He doesn’t, and it makes soap all the more dizzier, more frustrated. Why isn’t he fucking dead already? He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his mind right.
“Johnny. Johnny.” Can he just shut the fuck up? It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate for some reason. Shit. He feels overly exposed without the mask, feeling his body temperature rising steadily.
“Stop calling me that!” he growls out, twisting out of his grip and punching his across the face. The twisted skull mask looks almost comical out of place, but he can still see those eyes. Ghost’s hand comes to cup his cheek, and soap flinches back. His eyes look like Soap just mauled his puppy right in front of him. It makes him freeze in place, head awkwardly hovering between the floor and Ghost.
Images of blood spilling and needles, dirt and coffins fill his head, the sound of a neck snapping, gagging, screams and whimpers. Hands on him, eyes on him, never letting go. Stay. Soap snaps back into place, grabbing the mask and twisting it up, covering Ghost’s eyes. He quickly gets his other hand free and pushes ghost off him, sprinting out of the room.
“Wait-!” Is all he hears before flying down the corridor, back to safety, back to where it’s familiar, where he always is, where he always will be.
Loyalty has always been Soap’s best trait.
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