Fics like Noah and the Anglerfish

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap breathes. “How often does he do this?” Gaz turns, then, and meets his eye. “Us, and Price… We’re the only ones who’d live to talk about it,” he says. “It’s a last resort.” He reaches out, then, and puts his hand on Soap’s arm. “Being his handler means being the one to call the shots, Soap. We’re the only bloody things he cares about. Everything else is fodder. If you ever have to make this call, you better be damn sure you don’t care about survivors, because there won’t be any.” Price had been so eager to give the order. Imagine holding the nuke in your hands, knowing that you’ll be the only thing to survive its detonation. Imagine being Noah, but with the power to call the Flood whenever he wished. Soap shivers, something not altogether kind or good curling around his brainstem at the notion. Whether Gaz clocks it or not, he can’t say, but he eventually murmurs, “You’ll need a psych eval after this. We all get one after Ghost smokes out. Even him.” Soap frowns. “Why?” Gaz shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him. Personally, I think we all like it a bit too much.” Soap blushes, and doesn’t have the words for why.

Fics like Noah and the Anglerfish

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