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briefalpacashark · 2 months

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~Cowboys and Men~ Part One ~

Synopsis : The 141 have to play cowboys.

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You sat along with the other boys of the 141 as you stared at Laswell. She had just delivered the news of your next mission.

“Well shit,” you grin widely. Why? The mission was right up your alley. You had personal experience practically having grown up in the thick of it. The boys, however. You were almost certain that none of them had even come close to anything like it.

The mission. Going undercover in an American rodeo.

“So you want us to play cowboy?” Price asked.

“That’s right. Long enough till you find this guy and bring him in,” she stated tapping her knuckle on a photo of the target. An older man with a grim surrounded by gray hair and a killer mustache.

“Y/N you'll be the one participating in the rodeo. The boys will be your team,” Laswell explained simply.

“Her team?” Jonny asked, jabbing his thumb at you. “Why can't I be the horse rider huh?” he asked.

“Can you ride a horse?” Laswell asked.

“Well no, canne be hard, can it?” his question had you chuckling.

“Its an invite only event, we've got a contact. You'll head out tomorrow to show him what you got. He'll slot you in where he can,” Laswell focused on you as she spoke.

“Sure thing boss,” you nodded.

“Honestly Laswell, I think I could do a pretty good job,” Jonny stated.

“The fact that you think a rodeo only involves horses proves how unqualified you are for it,” You stated.

“And you are?” Jonny asked.

“I grew up in the saddle of a horse, mate. You're looking at a genuine drover,” you gestured to your body with a smirk.

“The fuck is a drover?” Jonny asked the rest of the team. Gaz simply shrugged.

“Alright dismissed,” Laswell said.

You were quickly dispatched to the good old US of A. You were dropped off in a random field via helicopter. Your team walked up to two men on horseback. The one on the left was tall and buff with golden hair to die for. The other was slightly shorter and stubbier. But they both had one thing in common. They looked like genuine cowboys. Hats and everything.

“Howdy!” Jonny called with a terrible American accent.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Forgive him. He's hit his head a few too many times,” Price stated.

“That stunt his growth too?” The blond asked. Your laugh broke through your lips as Jonny’s smile fell.

“The one you just shut up is Soap, that's Gaz, Ghost. I’m Bravo and that’s Doc.” he pointed you all out the cowboys, tipping their hat’s to you.

“Ma’am, I heard you're the only one with experience in the saddle,” the smile the blond gave you was slightly flirtatious.

“Since I was two. Grew up on a cattle station over in Australia,” You stated walking up to him to give them both a firm handshake.

“How could you choose the military life over one in the saddle?” he asked.

“Plan to get back to it one day,” you said your attention being grabbed by his horse that tried to nibble your jacket.

“He's gorgeous. Mustang?” You asked, reaching up to brush his nose.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “Care for a ride?” he asked with a wink. You chuckled at his obvious flirting attempt.

“Sorry mate. Not planning in hoping in any saddle that aint my own,” you said, giving the horse a pat.

“Alright, well, this is Sam, my name's Aurthur,” he stated.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Price stated spoke up drawing the attention off you.

“Pleasures all ours, Come on by the looks of you, it seems like we've got some work to do,” he stated.

“Work of what?” Gaz asked.

“To make you a lot cowboys,” he said with a grin.

First order of business, if you were to pass for cowboys, you had to look the part. Aurthur generously offered to take you all shopping. Your choice was quick, picked out for practicality. A simple light blue button up. A pair of denim jeans, a comfortable pair of boots and your old hat. You pulled the beat up looking thing out of your bag. It was your simple cattleman hat shape, in a dusty brown colour. It was scuffed and dirty, but it was yours. Setting it atop your head, you smiled at the familiar feeling. Slipping on the dark leather jacket, you fixed the collar before stepping out of the changing room.

“Look out,” Jonny stated from their allocated seats, all gathered in front of the changing rooms.

“So how do I look?” You asked, giving them a little pose.

“Like one hell of a rider,” Aurthur spoke up.

“So so,” Gaz tilted his hand back and forth.

“Oh yeah, let's see you do better,” you said tauntingly.

“Watch a master at work,” Gaz stated. You all waited for his outfit choice. When he stepped out you almost died of laughter. Tassels, tassels and fringe everywhere. On his head sat a bright red Tom Mix hat.

“What you don't think it's good?” he asked jokingly.

“You look like you'll fly away in a light breeze,” Jonny joked.

“Eat shit soap,” Gaz flipped him off.

“Nah, I'll show you how it's done,” Jonny spoke up. Yells of shock sounded from you all as he walked out in a pair of assless chaps. Only they weren't assless. In fact you saw a lot of ass due to the fact that Jonny only wore the chaps. Nothing else. He held a small bowler's hat in front of his privates as he pretended to act confused. He turned around, giving you a clear view of his rosy red cheeks.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, tipping your hat down to cover your gaze.

“You know, I don't think I put these on in the right order,” he stated. Even the Price cracked a chuckle or two.

“Might get a rash ridding a saddle like that,” Ghost stated.

“I like it,” you said. Jonny gave you a wink.

“Come on Captain,” Jonny encouraged Price when his ass was contained again.

Price walked out in a good pairing. A deep red button up, a pair of jeans, some lovely light brown boots, a light brown fleece jacket and a white brick shaped hat.

“Captain my captain,” You whistled.

“Where did you find that fashion sense cap?” Ghost asked.

“Quiet you,” Price warned playfully.

“You know those videos where a baby sees their dad with their beard shaved for the first time and they just break out crying,” You asked. Jonny hummed in acknowledgment.

“I feel like that with that hat he's wearing,” you whispered. Jonny chuckled.

“Alright Ghost your turn,” Jonny said slapping Ghost shoulder. Ghost slowly moved his eyes from the captain to Jonny daring him to hit him again.

“Alright, be that way grumpy,” Jonny muttered. “Guess it's my turn again,” he stated. With your help, Jonny walked out in a tight black long sleeve shirt, a denim jacket and jeans. Black boots and a brown rolled brim with a puncher crown. He looked alright apart from the obviously large belt buckle he wore. A picture of a bulls head engraved on it.

“Compensating?” you asked, nodding to the buckle, getting a bird flipped to you.

“At least his ass is covered this time,” Ghost grumbled. Gaz tried again, deciding on a cowboy version of a lumberjack. Plated shirt with a vest jacket, a dark blue pair of jenes and a black version of his original hat.

“Careful Gaz, that shirt looks a little tight,” Jonny called.

“That's the point,” Gaz stated with a smirk flexing his biceps.

“They can try all they want. The look of a cowboy is something that comes naturally. A look, ma’am that if you'll let me say looks extremely good on you,” Arthur leaned down to whisper to you. You smirked, shrugging.

“I don't know, I think they're pulling it off,” you stated. You chuckled as Gaz tried to perform his best cowboy walk. Hand on his belt and slaughtering forward before making a gun motion with his hand. And Jonny, who pretended to slow motion, to doge said bullets.

“Yeah sure,” Arthur muttered, making you chuckle harder. As you continued to watch Gaz and Jonny make a fool of themselves, you failed to notice a certain pair of eyes set on you.

“Careful Lieutenant, you glare any harder and he might just get the message,” Price smirked as he saw the slightly pissed expression hidden behind the skull mask.

“Don't know what you mean, sir,” Ghost grumbled before walking away.

Noticing Ghost's missing presence, you went to look for him, finding him in front of the many hats on display.

“Having trouble choosing?” You asked, walking up to him.

“Any pointers?” he asked.

“Can't help you there. This was my uncle's hat. He lost it when I won a bet,” you said.

“But,” you trailed off, your eyes searching through the hats. You smiled, reaching out to grab one.

“Yeah, this one,” you said, placing it on his head. It was low and pinched a grayish black.

“Yeah, that suits you,” you stated simply with a satisfied nod before walking away.

When you all returned to the ranch, Simon changed into his outfit. Black jeans, dark brown boots, a black leather jacket and dark grey button up. On his head sat the hat you chose, and he still wore his skull balaclava.

“Well hello handsome,” Jonny called as he walked out to you.

“Zip it Mc’tavish,” he grumbled. Jonny chuckled as he walked up to you. In the pen Arthur walked out a horse already saddled up. Spotting other ranchers gathering round to watch with eager grins, you quickly assessed what was happening. It was a bucking horse, or at least one they were trying to break.

“Alright, lesson one of being a cowboy. Staying on a horse that doesn't want you to stay on,” Arthur stated with a wide grin.

“Any volunteers?” he asked. You chuckled, shaking your head as Jonny raised his hand eagerly.

“Love the spirit scots, man. This here is Bessy,” Arthur said, gesturing him forward. You whipped your mouth as Jonny confidently made his way into the pen.

“Ello Bessy,” he smirked.

“I'd say goodbye to your balls now Soap, while you have the chance,” you called out to him.

“Ah, away with ye. I'll be fine,” Jonny waved you off.

“He's gonna eat shit isn't he?” Ghost asked folding his arms over his chest.

“All five courses of it,” you chuckled, pulling yourself up to sit on the railings.

“He has medical cover right?” you asked Price that only shock his head at his soldier stupidity.

“Alright Soap. hold on tight,” After Arthur gave him a basic run down and when Jonny was sat comfortable in the saddle did he stepped back.

“You're gonna set a timer, wanna make sure there is proof when I stay on longer than those bastards,” Jonny nodded back to you all, giving you a wide confident grin as the horse started to pad at the ground.

“Sure thing, champ,” Arthur grinned. “Go on, give her a kick,” he suggested casually, taking a few cautious steps back.

“What like this?” Jonny asked, kicking his heels gently into her sides.

You knew pigs couldn't fly, but Jonny sure could. One buck had the poor man was out of the saddle onto the horses ass, then the second buck had the man cartwheeling through the air before landing flat on his ass his legs split in front of him. You and Gaz was practically dying of laughter as Jonny rolled around in pain holding his manly jewels. After Jonny’s poor first display, the ranchers started to pass around bets.

“Who's next?” Arthur asked, turning to you lot.

Gaz sat on the back of Bessy looking like he was about to shit himself.

“Ok what do I do?” he asked shakily.

“Hold on,” Arthur stated simply.

“I know that, but I don't know the first thing about horses. Do do I pat it?” he asked.

“Sure, it probably won't do you any good though,” Arthur shrugged walking back.

“Come on Gaz,” you called encouragingly.

“I changed my mind, I want to get down,” Gaz stated. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, Bessy fell into a fit. Bucking and kicking like crazy. Gaz lasted about four seconds before he was bucked off.

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grumbled, limping back to you trying to remove the dirt from his mouth.

“Are the betting on us?” Jonny asked nodding to the growing group.

“There ranchers, this is probably the best entertainment they've had all week,” you stated.

“Yeah well they should stop,” Gaz grumbled.

“Why? They're actually betting in your favor,” you lied.

“Really?” he asked with a small grin of hope.

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, Gaz's smile instantly falling.

“Your acting way too high and mighty or this,” Gaz stated.

“I think I'm acting the right amount of high and mighty for my skills,” You shrugged.

“Skills we haven't seen yet,” Gaz grumbled.

“I don't need to prove anything,” you shrugged.

“Well, if ye so confident in yourself lass. How bout a wee little bet?” Jonny asked.

“Depends on what it is,” you smirked. With the smirk Jonny already knew you accepted the bet.

“If anyone of us can last longer than you, you owe us all a week of sick leave,” Jonny put the offer forward. In the military you need a doctor's note or your medic's permission to have a sick day. Which was practically impossible to get. You don't abuse your power but you didn't put up with their bullshit either. So they only ever got sick leave when they were actually sick. And not a man cold either, they had to actually be sick.

“And what do I get?” you asked.

“Bragging rights?” Jonny suggested.

“I'll settle for a picture of you in the outfit you rocked back at the shop,” you stated, pointing to him. Jonny grinned widely.

“Deal,” he said as you too shook on it.

“You ready, boss?” Jonny asked, turning to Price.

“A week of sick leave, you said?” he asked, debating if he wanted to be a part of your shenanigans.

“Yes sir,” you nodded.

“Right,” he muttered, pushing his hat further down on his head before slipping in the coral and shaking his jacket off his shoulders.

You had to give it to Price, he was pretty good. And he looked like he stepped right out of a cow boy movie. The mustache and the fit was just perfect. You sucked in a breath as he was thrown from the horse. Impressed cheers came from the others. He lasted almost ten seconds.

“Ghost?” Jonny suggested.

“I prefer to keep my balls unpopped,” Ghost grumbled.

“Guess that's me then,” You spoke up. Walking up to Bessy you smiled brushing her nose before walking round her to where Arthur stood.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“Nah mate,” you said effortlessly, swinging yourself up onto the saddle and taking the reins in hand. The familiar creak of the leather saddle and the ruff feel of the reins was welcoming. You settled into the back of the saddle, leaning back slightly. You pressed your hat down far enough down your forehead that the only thing you saw was your hands and the horse's shoulder blades.

“Alright, lets fucking do this,” you whispered before gently kicking her. You leaned back as far as you could and pulled the reins tight as she bucked wildly. Your body was jerked about left and right back and forth, yet you held on. The boys had to admit they were impressed. The ranchers cheered as the seconds drew on. As you hit the thirty second mark you swore as the horse slammed up against the side of the railings. To avoid you leg getting crushed you lumped off, the force sending you flying over the fence, right into Arthur who just happened to be sitting stop it. The two of you hit the ground in a cloud of dust. A relatively soft fall for you due to you landing on the cowboy.

“Fuck you alright?” You asked as you quickly hopped off the poor man.

“Look at that, falling for you already,” he groaned, painfully accepting your hand to help him up.

“That line usually work?” you asked with a small smile. You had to admit he was kinda cute.

“Well I don't usually have pretty women tackling me off the fence but here we are,” he said. You chuckled, shaking your head picking up your hat.

“How long was that Jonny!?” You yelled across the coral.

“Too fucking long!” he yelled back. You grinned smugly making your way back over to the boys.

Gaz and Jonny were adamant on getting those sick days. Price opted in for a few more tries, coming only four seconds from your record before he called it quits.

“Not gonna have a go Ghost?” you asked nudging his side.

“Risk getting hurt before the mission, not likely,” he stated as you watched Jonny narrowly avoid a broken bone.

“Fair enough,” you muttered. The boys could not beat your best. With bruised bodies and prides you all retired to your a few spar rooms in the bunkhouse.

The next morning, you all gathered before dawn. Arthur said you were gonna learn how to ride. The boys walking a bit slower than they usually would. You were all assigned horses. Ghost and Price and Gaz were going well after some instruction. And Jonny. Well let's just say he wasn't built to ride horses. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Loud laughs sounded as the horse started to trot slightly, sending your little scotsman's bouncing rapidly in his saddle.

“Fu-Uck En H-EL-LL,” he said through bounces as his head bobbled around. You rode up to him gently pulling on the rains to get the horse to slow down.

“Come on Mate. your ancestors road these guys into battle,” You said.

“Nah, these are American horses. If it was a scottish horse I would be grand,” he stated definitely. Amused by his logic, you just shook your head. To your surprise, Simon pulled up on the other side of Jonny. “Having a bit of trouble there?” Ghost asked smuggle. “Fuck Ye LT,” Jonny grunted, trying to glare only for him to slid sideways in the saddle. You reached out holding his jacket to keep him steady as he readjusted. Ghost smirked before trotting forward. You rode up to his side looking over his posture, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding both the reins.

“You’ve done this before,” you stated.

“When I was a kid,” he muttered.

“It shows, You're a natural,” you said.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

“Oh stop it, you'll make me blush,” you grinned. He glanced over at your smile, grunting in response.

“So this is your dream, huh?” he asked. Your grin turned into a fond smile.

“Yeah. I want a nice plot of land in the tablelands,” you stated.

“Table lands?” Ghost asked.

“I'll admit you guys have some nice green pastures in England. But the tablelands. Man, it's something different altogether. Rolling green hills right out of a picture book. It's high up, lots of rain, and rainforests. Fog will roll over the hills in the cold mornings and arvos. I'll have five horses, shit ton of chickens and cows. Maybe a goat or two,” your shrugged. “Two dogs. One working kelpie and and little staffy,” you continued.

“A big old cottage that I built myself. Oh, it's gotta have a basement. Definitely a secret passage. Maybe a fake skeleton chucked in there.” your words had Simon smiling as his eyes settled on you. Settled on the sparkle of your eyes as you described it all.

“Oh and there will be this big ol tree. If I have a family I'll string it up with fairy lights and lanterns. I'll invite you boys round for week long adventures. Big ol fire place next to it,” you reminisce of a life that you possibly might never get to live. After all, your job wasn't necessarily safe.

“Oh so I’m a part of this future huh?” he asked. The instant your gaze turned to him he realized what he said. His face flushed as your smile became impossibly brighter.

“Of course,” you stated simply. Only when you did think of all those things you left out one key part. Whenever you thought about your future, the annoying prick in front of you would pop into the frame. Helping you build the cottage. Putting one of his masks on the fake skeletons. Him in the tree hanging up the lights. Him sitting next to you around the roaring fire. Clearing his throat his face flushed deeply as he looked back to the path in front of you. You didn't see the flush though. You simply saw him avoiding your gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He thought it was the only explanation for his rapid heartbeat.

“Were going for a run care to join?” Arthur called back to you.

“Sure,” you called back.

“So you ready to show me just how good you are?” You leaned over to Ghost with a taunting

“Perhaps,” he grunted.

“First one to the tree up on that ridge,” you suggested.

“Are we betting anything?” he asked.

“Bragging rights?” you shrugged. “On three?” you suggested.

“Alright, three,” he stated kicking his horse into a gallop. An excited grin stretched across your face as you did the same. The cantering group let out exclamations of surprise as you two zoomed past them in a full gallop. Even with his headstart you quickly caught up to him. Riding would forever feel different to everything in your life. It felt like flying, but so much more magical. As you were neck and neck you looked over to Ghost who looked to you. With a wink, you dropped the reins, opening your arms out as the horse pulled forward. You won by just an inch.

The next day it was game time. You were strapped up and dressed up for your rodeo. You left a little earlier than the boys. You were hanging around beer in hand playing the part as Arthur introduced you to a few people. Chucking your watch you glanced at the time.

“They should be here by now,” you muttered.

“Speak of the devils,” Arthur muttered nodding behind you. A low whistle left your lips as you took them in.

As everyone took them in. Women, buckle bunnies and men had their eyes set on the group. They looked like a master piece of hot manliness. And you had to admit they looked good enough to have anyone's panties dropped with just a word. There boots kicking up dust as they strutted through the crowd. You swore the music was perfect of their entrance, looking like a scene out of a movie.

“Boys,” you nodded to them as they approached.

“Anna,” Price nodded to you. Your cover name for the mission.

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to someone,” Arthur stated beckoning you all over. You sucked in a small breath as he took you all to the target.

“Tommy,” Arthur greeted the man like old friends.

“Arthur, how are you, my boy?” he asked. He was an older man, a true cowboy.

“Good Good,” Arthur nodded as they embraced.

“So you're the one Arthurs has been speaking about. You should know outsiders aren't usually welcome here,” the target stated as he turned to you.

“What scared of the challenge?” you asked with a teasing smile. The man paused a beat before breaking out into laughter.

“She's a spunk fire all right. Name’s Tom, everyone calls me Tommy,” he greeted holding his hand out to you.

“Anna,” you introduced yourself.

“Anna, you dont look like an Anna,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what do I look like?” you asked.

“Some real classy name. Like Evangeline or somethin,” he stated.

“Well, you certainly look like a Tommy,” you said.

“Why thank you ma’am,” he tipped his hat to you.

“And who are these fellas?” he asked turning to the boys.

“I'm her manager, Cole,” Price introduced himself. “These boys are on the team,” he stated, pointing to the rest who gave nods.

“I see, well fellas I'll see you out there,” he stated giving you another nod before walking off.

“So we grabbing him?” Jonny asked.

“To many people here,” Price mumbled.

“After the main event you'll have your chance, that's when he goes home,” Arthur said. You nodded, glancing around you. Fancy profession buckers were walking all round you.

“Nervous Darling?” Arthur asked. The boys gaze snapped to him, some pissed of some surprised. The way American men say darling is just something different.

“I'm about to strap myself to a state of the art bucking horse. Of corse im fucking nervous,” you muttered.

“Don't worry. Come on, there are some other events before. Let's get you warmed up,” he stated. You needed to keep your mind occupied, so you agreed. Steer wrestling and roping was your go to. You didn't place first in anything but you didn't do too bad. The boys looked at you in a different light as you rode beside a young bull, jumping off your horse to wrestle it to the ground, flipping it over and tying its legs up.

“God damn,” Jonny whispered as you stood to your feet holding your hands in the air.

“She's good, really good,” Arthur stated as he stood by the boys.

“That's our girl,” Price stated simply.

“So, what are you lot to her?” he asked.

“What?” Gaz asked squinting at the man.

“You lot seem real close. I know you're a team but I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I'm a gentle man like that,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean step on anyone's toes?” Price asked, his arms folding over his chest taking on the protective dad stance.

“Look if she's spoken for I'll back off. But I don't see no ring, and she calls you all by name. No pet names,” Arthur trailed off before turning to Ghost.

“So I guess im asking what are you to her,” the question was pointed at Ghost the boys quickly catching on. Ghost turned fully to him tucking his hand under his arm pits where his guns sat, hidden by his jacket. Although he made a point to let the smooth metal peek out.

“I'm the guy that fucks you up seven ways to Sunday if you hurt her,” his voice was deathly low, shaking Arthur up a bit. Yet it was Simon's glare that had the man really scared.

But he also got the answer he wanted.

“So she's available?” Arthur pointed out with a grin.

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=Cowboys and Men = Part Two here=

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~COD Master List Here~

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#141 x reader #cod 141 #cod ghost #141 x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

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All I wanna do is go the distance

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Hey guys, I'm super excited to give you guys this next chapter 💕 I have big things planned hehe

I would reccommend reading this oneshot, but as I am not jon favreau, you don't have to read extra stuff I make to understand the main stuff. Enjoy 😈

Part 7 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

It had taken a few weeks for your head to get completely right again after the concussion. On some days you worried that you’d never get through the fluorescent infested hallways of the base without jamming your fists in your eyes ever again. Sometimes you’d catch Price staring at you with those concerned world weary eyes of his in the worst moments, when the headaches were screaming outwards, bursting through your skull. Though with enough time, and a lot of pain killers, the pain died down and dulled until you were completely back to normal.

It was a good thing too. For one, getting Price off your back while you were continuing to sneak around with König was a must, being under the microscope was only making the head trouble all the worse. And for another, which you were sometimes shocked to think was the secondary reason, you’d been going on more and more missions again as the 141 and KorTac got ever closer to tracking down Rousseau. Things were getting tense now, Ghost had been falling under a lot of pressure to perform and his temper was all over the place. Oftentimes you’d be the lucky one that had to chase him and calm him down.

In the months and missions after you’d come back you’d put away three of Rousseau’s men behind bars, including a very high level man that acted as his consigliere. Apparently he’d been worked on quite a bit since his capture. 141 weren’t privy to the intimate details of course, that was up to the CIA and KorTac, but as far as you’d all been told he’d given over a wealth of information on Rousseau’s location and even some limited blueprints of his hideout.

Price had told you all in advance that intelligence would be confirming your next mission in a matter of days, so you should all stick close to the base. You were actually getting ready for an upcoming training exercise, Rousseau’s man revealing the details on his base meant that command were adamant that you did a run through first and came up with a successful strategy for the big boss’ take down.

Luckily for you, because of the stay close order, that meant more time in your little airbnb paradise. The place was starting to feel like home. You were both etching yourselves into the apartment, carving your living narratives into it.

You could identify marks where König had been clumsy and dropped things or scuffed his boots against the wall. There was a tiny stain on the couch from where you’d come and sat after a mission. Lastly, but not least of all, was the curtain that had been sneakily stitched up to the railing after you and König had accidentally pulled it off several of its hooks when you’d grabbed it a little too enthusiastically one night. And on top of it all was the lingering smell of the room spray you’d bought a few weeks into renting the place, preferring the smell of ‘violet rain’ over the faint notes of tobacco that clung to the walls from other renters.

Sometimes you and König even liked to tell each other ‘see you back at the house’. It was becoming all so humdrum to you both.

You smiled as you glanced over at König one night, ruminating over your little routine. The warmth of you could’ve lifted the apartment into the air. It just felt so good to know that you had something that was yours, something that wasn’t your job, something that wasn’t a material thing, you had a life with König. It was most apparent to you when you watched him, when he was free of his hood and his armour and plates and he lay on the bed on his phone, unburdened from rules and duty. He undressed himself from the myth and lay comfortably as König the man, lounging in his boxers and T-shirt like any boyfriend would act with their partner.

Though that night, his brows were knit together in concentration and his lips were pursed, he was adamant that he be left alone for a minute to do whatever it was that he was doing. It intrigued you because he was rarely so mysterious, normally he’d tell you if it was a work thing, but this time he just waved you off and told you not to be nosy. That being the case, you were watching him closely trying to see if he’d give you any hints or signs of what was so captivating on that screen of his.

“I can feel those doe eyes burning a hole into me,” he chuckled, finally gracing you with his attentions.

“Can you blame me? You’re being all suspicious,” you shrugged, tilting your head a little to see if he’d explain himself.

“I’m not being suspicious, I just asked for some quiet.”

“You said ‘Sneaky, I have something I need to do, but don’t look’ and then when I asked if it was work stuff you said no. That - is suspicious.”

“Well it gave you an excuse to imitate me, so that’s something isn’t it,” he scoffed.

“Well, you know I do it so well,” you grinned, watching with delight as he rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you repeated, feeling as if you were copying him perfectly.

“If you think that’s how I sound then I'm surprised you have any kind of attraction to me,” he laughed.

“Well some days are a struggle more than others, but-”

You weren’t given the chance to finish your sentence, he’d forgotten all about his phone and thrown it from his lap, launching himself at you faster than any RPG you’d seen. In a matter of seconds you were pinned to the bed and fighting for your life, tears pouring from your eyes as he tickled you and trapped you underneath his annoyingly unyielding legs.

“What happened to the Sneaky that cried when I told them that I was bullied for my accent in school, hm? Now you’re making fun of me? I’ve got to say, that hurts me Sneak,” he said, an overdramatic fake upset lacing his tone. “You deserve every bit of this!”

You cried out and tried to protest, making a grab for his hands, but were merely shoved away when you made any kind of headway in distracting him. You wriggled and squirmed and screamed, but it was all for nothing. There was no way to make him stop until he wanted to.

“Kö- K…König, please!” you yelped, struggling to breathe. “Enough!”

You were beginning to feel like a struggling furnace as you endured his torture. Your lungs were burning from their failing efforts and you only screamed more as you grew tired of trying to fight back. The second he finally stopped his assault, you gasped in a huge lungful of air and laid back, groaning as you looked up at the blaring lights overhead and registered your sweaty forehead.

“Remind me not to bully you again,” you sighed, finally finding your voice again.

“Mhmm. I tell you all the time, but you just always insist on being so mean to me regardless,” he chuckled, unhooking his legs from your sides.

König came to rest beside you and tucked a stray strand of hair back in its place. His eyes scanned over your heaving chest and he laughed as he watched you attempt to struggle into a sit. Nevertheless you managed to wobble yourself upwards on the shaky mattress and looked down at him, then over to his forgotten phone.

“Will you do that again if I try to ask what you were doing so suspiciously on your phone?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he smiled.

His new favourite line. The way he said it, it always had the undertones of a threat, but it was never said outright maliciously. König could affect his voice with so much masked intent it would have your head spinning sometimes trying to work out what he’d do next. Sometimes you’d get lost thinking about how long he’d practised that. The unfortunate people that had come across his path and challenged him, ending up with a far worse fate than just your tickling. Though you never liked to dwell on it for long.

“What were you suspiciously doing on your phone, König?” you said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts before you got too sucked in.

“Well, if you must know…” he trailed off and made a jump toward you, pretending he was going to attack again.

“No! No, no, no! Not again,” you cried out, leaping away from the bed.

You made a mental note to thank Soap and Ghost one day, all their messing with you had made you quick on your feet. Instinctively, you threw your hands up ready to fight and narrowed your eyes, watching his every movement like a hawk. König remained on the bed though and sat up, laughing and shaking his head to himself as he picked up his phone again and scrolled through it.

“Please, Sneaky, you really think I’m going to be threatened by those fists?” he tutted, not even looking at you as you remained in your defensive stance. “Put them away and come sit down.”

“These hands have killed people!” you defended.

“Yes, I know that, you’re a good soldier.”

“Exactly, so you should be threatened,” you retorted.

“If I was anyone else, sure. You’d never hurt me though,” he said, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. “I’m your boyfriend after all.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and immediately covered your face in your hands. Every little bit of you was drowning in the feeling of your thundering heart.

König didn’t much care for that particular title, he usually preferred to say partner, but he knew how it made you feel and he weaponised it as much as he possibly could. Knowing that he was all yours still scattered the butterflies in your stomach and you always felt like a little kid in the face of his teasing. You couldn’t help that him being officially yours still got you so excited.

“Are you ever going to stop using that against me?” you mumbled, finally coming to sit by him.

“No. I like watching you get flustered,” he chuckled. “It’s very cute.”

Before you could protest anymore though, he slung his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, softly releasing all the fight you had left with his teasing lips and tongue. You were locked together for a few moments and sighed contentedly when he broke away, pressing your head to his shoulder and feeling ready to sink down into the bed with him.

Though it wasn’t time for that yet.

“Would you like me to show you what I’ve been working on?”

You opened your eyes and faced him again, watching his nervous smile grow. Seeing him look so sheepish re-sparked your curiosity and you nodded, ready to see what it was. He hurriedly entered his password and the screen flashed open, landing on the homepage screen with a shot of you both from one of your photobooth pictures from an impromptu date months before, before your concussion. Pictures he was adamant that he couldn’t let you keep because he had to protect his image, even if he was wearing his half mask at the time. As if he was somehow a much better secret keeper than you.

You smirked at the memory of all the playful bickering you’d done over those photos and shook your head, eyeing the screen again as König brought up his tabs. He clicked onto the latest one and it opened onto a confirmation email. It wasn’t what you’d expected, not that you were sure of what you even were expecting. As you read it you raised your brows and looked up at him, wondering what was happening.

“This is a confirmation email for renting a hire car from some company in Austria,” you stated.

“Some company has a name,” he retorted.

“I’m not going to insult you by trying to pronounce that.”

“I see you’re restraining yourself now,” he laughed. “Well yes, it is a hire car confirmation for a cheap company in Vienna.”

“And you’re hiring a car in Vienna because?”

“Because, in a few months time, I’m taking you to Austria. Now, wait! Before you protest, I’ve thought it all out and you don’t need to worry about explaining any passport stamps to Price. I’ve found us flights to Slovakia and a train that can take us from Bucharest into Vienna, and from there I can take you around to see the country for a few days.”

He hastily explained himself and you smiled as you watched his hurried hand movements, his body in a flurry of motion. It was particularly fun to see him turn his hand into, what you figured, was a high speed train. He looked at you seriously as he finished, waiting in a suspended state of worry to see what you’d say.

As if you’d disappoint him.

“You sat and booked all that just for us?”

“Of course. I’ve really wanted to take you for a while now, so when you said you had time booked off and the higher ups indicated this mission will be coming to a close soon...I thought, this is the time. So what do you say? Will you come with me?”

“Obviously! I’m so excited, I can’t believe it. I’m getting to go on holiday with my Boyfriend,” you laughed, this time making yourself squeal. “It's gonna be so good! We’re gonna eat so much good food and see so many cool places and oh- I wanna see those mountains you were talking about! Can we go?”

“We will see the mountains, yes. I’ve put time aside for that,” he laughed.

“You’ve planned the whole trip already?” you asked incredulously.

“Sneaky I’ve been planning this for weeks,” he smiled. “I just finished the last arrangements there. I want to keep most of it a surprise, but…I actually have one thing on there that I need to ask you about before we go though.”

“Oh?”

He pursed his lips again and looked away before looking back to you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to Burgenland? To my mothers house.”

Your heart skipped a beat and somehow you managed to reach new levels of excitement. Meeting König’s mum meant a lot more to him that it did for most people. It came with a lot more meaning. Meeting König’s mum meant that he was accepting you as part of his family, it meant that he wanted you to know more of his annoyingly buried secrets. It meant that he’d have to tell you his name.

It’s not like his own mother would call him König.

It had been a sore subject for a little while. The cause of your only serious fights so far. You’d pushed to know a couple times, complaining that he wasn’t letting you in and that it was ridiculous that you were a couple and you wouldn’t even know what to call him if anything should happen. Something could happen to him out in the field and all you’d know is a codename, he could be taken away from you and you’d never know who he was.

Of course König argued that that was ridiculous and you knew more than almost anyone knew about him - excluding his mum of course. He claimed that his name was just a burden, that it was just something that would give people an excuse to take from you. Though you argued about that as well, if someone wanted to hurt you to get to him then they’d do it anyway. It didn’t matter if they believed you knew his true identity or not.

The last time you’d gone almost hysterical because the whole thing was so silly to you. The little airbnb walls felt like they were going to go flying with all the verbal mortars being thrown, like you were going to be swept up like something from the wizard of Oz. You’d both bickered back and forth, forming a dark comedy sketch, two squeaky little cartoon characters that were on the verge of strangling each other as you both held your ground.

“Why does it matter if I know! You keep saying people will come for me, and that it's more dangerous to know you, but it's not that. I know it's not that! Otherwise you wouldn’t be seen with me, you wouldn’t have let me come this close. You just can’t face that all your walls would have to come down. You just don’t want to let me in.”

“It is dangerous to know who I am, how many times must I list the reasons? But you know what, fine, you’re right.You win! I’d love to let you in fully, but yes I am afraid of letting you close! Even though you have no idea how much you’ve taken already. I’ve given you more of me than anyone else has ever gotten, even while it’s been hard. You have no idea how hard all this is for me.”

“Hard for You? I’m in a relationship with someone that won’t tell me their name!”

“Because it's the last thing I have to protect myself! If you leave me, what then? You could decide you want out of all this complication and find someone nice and simple and then where would I be? You’d have taken everything from me.”

“What am I taking from you? Knowing who you are is not taking anything from you König. Besides, I’m not leaving you. Why do you think I’m so hell bent on trying to find someone else when I spend all my time jeopardising my job just to be here with you? You think I like facing down Price knowing that he’d turn on me if he knew what I got up to in my spare time? I put the respect of someone that I deeply care about on the line, just so that I can be with you and you’re acting like I’m ready to run off at the first chance!”

“Because you’ve done it before!”

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

König may as well have turned and stuck a ten foot spear through your heart. You’d felt a tide of tears wash up in your eyes and you’d walked away from him then, not willing to let him see how much he’d hurt you. Not that that was an option. From his widened eyes alone, you knew that he’d known it was a mistake to dredge up old wounds, his sparkling blue irises dimming as he lost his self conviction.

“Wait! Hold on, I’m sorry.”

König raced up to you and stopped you in your tracks. His strong arms wrapped around you fast and held you snugly against his chest as pathetic droplets of tears streaked your burning cheeks. You didn’t bother trying to free yourself from him. You just whimpered and clung to him as he shushed you and apologised for what he’d said, kissing your dampened face like it was nothing.

“I’m so sorry. What I just said was stupid. Will you please come sit with me for a moment… I have something I want to tell you.”

A flare of anger and rebellion flared in you for a second. It was stamped out immediately, but just for a moment you wanted to storm off and tell him that if he wanted to keep you from knowing him then he’d done a great job - that that was it. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to follow through. Even when you hated him at that moment, you couldn’t bear to see him upset again. You knew that you’d hurt him badly already that day you’d run from him in the park outside the base, you knew that you couldn’t bring yourself to do that again.

“Ok,” you’d sniffled.

He’d sighed and taken you to the couch, sitting across from you after propping you up against your favourite fluffy pillow. You held onto it with one of your hands, losing yourself in its soft textures as you threaded your fingers through it. König watched you play with the loose strands for a second before looking you in the eyes, his face a perfect picture of remorse.

“You didn’t really run away from me, that was silly of me to say.”

“I did run from you though, I ran from you that day you tried to explain yourself after the mission” you frowned, not able to help your crackling feebly. “You were right, I can’t act like I haven’t given you reasons to be wary.”

“No. You didn’t leave me then though. You agreed to work through things and I suppose that’s what we’ve been doing…with mixed results,” he said, laughing dryly. “You haven’t really given me reason to be like this. This is what has happened after years of keeping people out and I suppose…I’m just having a hard time adjusting to what it feels like to let someone in.”

“I know. I know that really,” you sighed. “It's just hard sometimes because sometimes it feels like things are as they should be, like everything we have is so normal. Then I snap back to reality and there’s all this stuff with work where we have to pretend to hate each other and then we have missions that don’t line up and we don’t get to speak, like not even a phone call a lot of the time. Then there’s this intrusive voice I have over it all saying- well saying ‘you don’t even know his name, what is it we really even have together’ and I know its ridiculous and we care about each other and I should ignore it all-”

“It’s not ridiculous,” König soothed. “I feel the strain of these things too.”

He leaned forward then and grabbed your hands, making you jump as you were taken out of worrying at the pillow. His calloused fingers rubbed against yours and his warm grip kept you grounded into reality. The scars that scraped up the backs of his arms jumped up at you in the warmth of the yellow lights, his whole body a patchwork of battered skin. You traced your eyes from his rough hands and arms, up to his bobbing adam's apple and to the depths of his ocean eyes and worried face.

König’s jaw was tensed and he breathed as he worked up to what he was going to say. Your own breath was held then, lungs burning as you waited for him to speak.

“Other people have let me down in the past. My mother moved us to Germany for a manipulative piece of shit that hated me and looked to rid himself of me at every opportunity. I grew up with few friends, in a country that wasn’t mine, and fought so hard for so long that I didn’t know how to be vulnerable. I met a woman after I was forced to join the army that told me I was a hollow shell of a man, and that no one should have to be sentenced to dealing with me…There’s times I’ve agreed with her too, I’ve moved through life feeling like half a person some days. Then I met you. None of what I’ve told you is any excuse to treat you badly, but sometimes I’m so set in my distrust that I can’t let myself cross the lines I need to be able to get to where you are….And- and for you…I’m working on crossing those lines, because you’re the only person I’d ever want to give myself to, but for now its a slow process. You’ve seen my full face, we’ve made love and I have given you almost everything that I can give you for right now. All of this is to say…well - to ask - if you would give me a little more time and allow me to keep working on things with you.”

Listening to him then, as his voice crackled and wavered with emotion, was so very difficult. He kept a hold of your hands the whole time, his fingers shaking as he went on. His whole body looked ready to crumble as he explained himself.

Though before he could be brought down by everything you leaned over and held him, winding your arms around him as tightly as they would go. You hugged him close for the rest of the night and whispered to each other in the darkness when you went to bed, giving your affirmations, like a secret promise, that everything would be ok.

As you thought back to that night, your body shook with an icy cold shock of frisson. You didn’t want to go through that again.

“I would love to meet your mum, König,” you said softly, swallowing as you tried to tactfully avoid another horrific argument. “Does this mean…that you’ll tell me your name soon?”

He smiled knowingly at you and nodded, stroking the warm apple of your cheeks fondly.

“I will tell you sometime soon, yes,” he confirmed, speaking warmly.

You felt a beaming smile shine brightly over your face and jumped on König, feeling full force of excitement as things seemed to be heading in a good direction. Everything was lining up. Your mission would be done soon, you and König wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around anymore because the taskforce would have some downtime until you were called upon again for some other earth shattering mission. After that you were going to finally learn his name.

You sighed. It was almost too good to be true.

“You just gotta promise me one thing,” you said, shifting your tone seriously.

“What?” he asked, breaking away from your hug so that he could look at you properly.

“If it’s something ridiculous you have to prepare me in advance.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned, falling comically backwards onto the couch.

“I’m being serious,” you laughed. “If it’s something crazy like Wolfgang or Ferdinand I need to be prepared!”

“Do you really think that that’s what Austrian people are called?” he giggled.

“I have no idea! This is what I’ve been saying, I could see your passport in a few months time and could be having to fight myself not to laugh!”

“You would really laugh at my name if you thought it was silly?” he snorted.

“All I can promise that I’ll try not to,” you grinned, crossing your hands over your heart while he stared back at you with a displeased glare. “All I’m saying is that if I see something mad I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

He rolled his eyes again and sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up into the air.

“I can’t believe I’m being lectured on silly names by someone called ‘Sneaky’.”

“Hey!”

-☠️-

When Price called you all in the next day, nothing could’ve prepared you for the shitstorm that was going to ensue. Though you were feeling the full force of it as you stood in the darkened labyrinth of the warehouse that had been set up to emulate Rousseau’s hideout. The 141 and KorTac had been told to find the best way to clear the base and get to Rousseau, but the problem was that you were taking too long and being overwhelmed by too many of Price’s fake men. There were just so many rooms that were connected to other rooms and it meant that a lot of men could get by each other undetected. It was a nightmare.

You’d run through the exercise around eight times already and the more that Price was making you reset, the more tension was being put on the team. It was only a matter of time till someone snapped. Although, given their quick temper and worn down attitude in the last few months, you were sure of who that person was going to be the entire time.

In the latest reset, you stood next to one of the floppy wooden walls and bit your tongue, watching on with fear as Ghost marched up to König and got in his face. They were almost mask to mask, eye to eye as Ghost took what little gap there was between them and cinched it tight. You felt every little notch in the wood then, backing yourself into it just so that you could force yourself not to get yourself in trouble by intervening.

“Stop fucking around you useless pile of shitting cloth!”

ouch.

“You’re blaming me for the reset?” König scoffed, squaring up his shoulders. “If you would stop lagging through the hallways and would get them cleared properly, then we might be able to get through one of these attempts successfully, Lieutenant.”

“It was your bright idea to split off with Soap and Gaz and leave us with Horangi. So far it’s been nothing but problems with you and your team rushing and getting hasty and now I’m done. We’re doing it my way again. Slow and methodical. Like it or lump it, king cunt.”

“Problems aren’t from me going too fast, they’re occurring because your team isn't clearing the halls properly, Ghost. I need Soap because Fender is out of the country, I need someone to blow the doors so I can breach plus the extra cover. Your idea failed five times already, why don’t we try to execute mine properly, hm?”

“I’ll fucking show you an execution, König!”

Ghost rammed König and sent him back peddling into the wall you were leaning against with heavy thud. You were sent flying forward as the wood bounced and watched as it rattled with the men’s efforts to take each other down.

It was like watching two stags lock horns, they were grabbing onto each other furiously and neither man seemed to want to let the other go. König swung his fist and Ghost dodged. Ghost tried to knock König unbalanced with a kick, and only succeeded in almost sticking his boot through the cheap chipboard.

The rest of you watched on helplessly. There was very little anyone of you could do to pull the two titans off of each other - Not if you didn’t want to get taken out of action in the process.

“Right! That’s enough boys!”

Price’s voice echoed through the warehouse, powerful and commanding as it sailed through the air like a brick. It smashed through the two fighters and in a matter of seconds König and Ghost were standing to attention, looking up at Price from his spot on the balcony. The blue light of the warehouse shone starkly against the white in Ghost’s mask, but it failed to stick on the inky black of König’s hood.

“I appreciate that its been a long day gentlemen, but that doesn’t mean you get the luxury of turning into little school boys that can’t contain their fucking tantrums!” Price bellowed, continuing to reset the temperature. “König, stop pushing so hard when the others are still trying to clear the rooms on the left side. Ghost, work faster and spread your team out. Reset and do it again!”

The Captain’s word was final. Even at the height he stood, illuminated by a few bulbs that flickered like burnt orange like cigarettes, you saw that he was in no mood to be argued with. He’d stood watch for all of the attempts and with every one that failed he grew more and more dissatisfied as your joint teams disintegrated into in-fighting.

Well, that wasn’t going to be a problem on this attempt. Not unless anyone was in the mood to invoke Price’s wrath.

All you marched off without another word, dragging your feet as you made your way back to the start point. Ghost was glaring so hard at König it seemed like all of you were staying purposefully clear of his path; attempting to avoid the crossfire. Soap and Gaz grunted a few words of annoyance toward each other on the way, but luckily you all made it in one piece.

A few tense moments proceeded to ebb slowly by. The clatter of doors and scrape of fallen soldiers and obstacles being reset was echoing throughout the building, the heavy breaths of men around you intermingled and all too eerily you began to feel like you were in the belly of a beast. It certainly appeared that way to your eyes, you couldn’t see much through the darkness. You’d have to position your night vision down again.

In the briefing before training, when you’d had the blueprints and locations revealed to you, you’d been told that your guys would be able to cut the power beforehand. They were sending your two teams in while Price waited with another team on standby. That way if Rousseau tried to make a clever escape, Price would be there to close in on him while you rid his headquarters of his followers.

All of it was easier said than done though apparently.

“If we fuck this up again I’m going home. Fuck the dessertion charges, prison’s better than this,” Gaz muttered.

“If we fuck this up again,” Ghost growled in disbelief. “You mean If your team fuck it up, Garrick.”

“Aw, putting the blame on us, LT?” Soap chuckled. “You’re so sweet. Maybe it's me just looking to spend a little more time with you.”

His laugh still held a little humour in it, even for all the torture you’d all been through. Although he knew for a fact that he had nothing to do with it. It was his big lumbering steam train of a teammate that couldn’t be let off so easily.

It was true what Price said, he had been moving too quickly. König was frustrated. Somehow, despite not even being able to see him most of the time, and at times just barely through the green haze of your goggles, you could tell he was finally feeling the strain of working with your team. He was getting antsy and forceful, trying to power through so that he could escape the stifling atmosphere that the other men created for him.

You wanted to tell him he’d only make it worse by prolonging the day. Though it wouldn’t have been a good idea to speak to him then - not with Ghost feeling the way he was.

“If we spend any more time down here you’ll all be wishing for a nice cosy jail cell by the time I’m done,” Ghost spat.

You flickered your eyes over to König and held your breath. He looked like he desperately wanted to make a comment on the situation, his eyes were narrowing in a familiar way, the kind of look he got when he was about to fight a point. You silently begged him to stand down and cast a wary glance over at Horangi, hoping he’d stop his friend from doing anything dumb.

Though in the end it didn’t matter. Price interjected before König could air his thoughts, entering the scene like a benevolent god shouting from above.

“Alright. Begin again in 5…4…3…2…and…”

The warehouse descended into complete darkness, all lights were off and it was just you and your two teams, huddled together in the lonely gloom. Ghost silently gestured for you all to get moving and with the rehearsed speed of a broadway play, you filed into two teams and braced as Soap got the first charge ready.

You drew in a breath and felt your heart thudding in your chest, it made you tighten your grip on your gun as every booming beat cracked out like thunder. You swallowed and scanned your eyes through the green fog, watching bleary eyed as Soap set the first charge. You looked away and hunched your shoulders, already tensing for the first explosion.

The door broke away and the charge sounded off with a dull boom, soon enough your teams were ‘firing’ on your fake enemy with your fake rounds. The guns clacked and clicked in a foreign kind of way and instead of screaming or disappearing in a spray they took a moment to notice the hits and would drop to the ground like seasoned actors.

Even despite that all though, the adrenaline felt all too real. The soldiers were growing smarter smarter, even hindered by the darkness,they had begun to forsee your oncoming attacks and fought back twice as hard as before now that they'd seen your strategy a few times. It was taking longer and longer to clear the first room.

Nevertheless, determined to stay in the exercise and take it through to its bitter end. You kept down behind Ghost and shot out at the hostiles, doing your duty and hoping it would be enough. Luckily for you the men fell after trading a couple rounds of fire.

“Horangi, stay on me. Sneak when I say the word I want you to move up ahead to the first room on the left. Horangi and I will cover you while you clear it and block the entrance on the otherside,” Ghost ordered.

“Copy that,” you responded, also hearing Horangi sound off similarly.

König had moved up already, but rather than have Soap and Gaz blow the next door, they were all taking cover and helping your team with the oncoming flood of men. Even as two separate teams you were now united in a common purpose - to improve the strategy and ensure you’d never be put through the exercise again.

Most of you hated having to do those sessions, rehearsing for the main event. After All It’s not like you can account for everything that can happen when the real mission goes live. Its not like the men would be expecting you like the hapless new recruits, that was only natural as you reset the mission for the ninth time in a row.

With that in mind, you kept your gun in your hands like it was superglued to you and marched on, following through with Ghost’s plan as he directed you forward. You gulped and sprinted toward the room, taking cover behind the door and angling your head so that you could spot the men that were spraying heavy fire just inches from where you stood. You blinked and took a breath, reminding yourself that you had the edge. You had night vision.

In a flash you whirled around and took out one of the men closest to you, diving behind a desk before anyone else could get to you. Already marking out your next target, you were relieved when you spotted Ghost in your peripheral and shot up.

“Support pillar, LT!” you shouted, marking out your ‘kill’.

Ghost acknowledged you and directed his gun toward the other two, and soon enough you were standing in an empty room, listening to the fire outside. Though you weren’t done, you hustled over to the entrance on the other side and tipped a desk over the doorway, making entry very difficult. Then seconds later another explosion went off and Ghost signalled for you to follow him, covering the rear of team König.

“On me, team!”

Horangi and you followed Ghost as closely as possible, heeding his every command as you cleared the rest of the rooms with slow and steady precision. König battered down every door with Soap’s help and with he and Gaz ploughing forward, you were able to keep watch of the rear as more men crawled out of the woodwork in an attempt to surprise you.

Even with the fake ammo your blood was pumping around your body like white water rapids and your breathing came fast and heavy. The clack of the guns and the sound of feet scrabbling against the crumbly warehouse floors were echoing around your head and before long you were beginning to feel wired, could feel your body shake as you grew ever closer to the end. This was it. An escape from the labyrinth and the endless blurry green of the night vision goggles.

“Ready?” König asked, standing prone at the last door.

Ghost and Horangi took out a couple of stragglers, and once they were down and static silence was ringing all around you, König was given the go ahead.

“One last door and then we’re home free, Gazzy,” Soap grinned, setting the door to blow.

“Yeah yeah, just blow the door, Soap,” Ghost growled.

The last breach felt strong enough to shake the ground you were standing on. Though you’d concede that by the time the charge went off, you were starting to shiver a little. You were full of anticipation, ready to sit down and get some rest before the actual mission. A good night’s sleep was within your grasp.

Once that door swung out, you’d realised that you’d never been so relieved to see a potential hostage.

The new recruit made a mighty effort to mimic Rousseau, he tried to go down fighting and raised his gun at you all. Though with six people on him he didn’t have a chance. All of you shrank back from his shots while he attempted to flee, though when you noticed that the recruits back was turning to run, you took your chance and barrelled toward him.

With every ounce of strength that was left in your body you tackled the man to the ground, landing softly on his thick padding - something Rousseau definitely wouldn’t have when it came time to dive on him. Even with your body protesting, exacerbated limbs crying out for a break, you wrestled his gun from his hands and pinned them to the ground. Fake Rousseau had nowhere to go after that, he was stuck below your body even as you heaved out heavy breaths and soon was surrounded by the rest of your team.

At long last it was game over.

“Alright, very good team,” Price’s voice called, “You can take off the night vision and we’ll turn the lights up.”

You were all too eager to follow Price’s command. You whipped the goggles up and looked around in the sheer darkness for a moment until the blue lights faded on and were then chased up by the stark flicker of the overhead lights.

Everyone was blinking hard, adjusting to the brilliance and grimacing as you all looked around the grotty old warehouse with new eyes. When it was set up with low lighting there was something very intimidating about the training area, though now that you looked at it in the new light you couldn’t help but compare it to waking up the morning after a one night stand.

The chip boards looked floppy and pathetic and the huge towering walls beyond your little simulated maze were covered in warning signs and caution notices. The mirage had cleared, and finally you could look up at Price properly, settling your strained eyes on his terse expression.

“Much better. That’s the sort of performance I expect from you lot, and that’s what I want when we launch tomorrow. Get yourselves cleaned up and get ready to meet in the hanger for oh-four hundred. You’re all dismissed.”

-☠️-

“Fucking Training exercises.”

You lumbered behind Ghost and made your way to the bathrooms, getting ready to wash up with the rest of the team, hearing bed calling out to you sweetly before your early start. Soap and Gaz were unsuaully quiet, meanwhile König and Horangi were their usual type of quiet. Ghost wasn’t satisfied with that though, he was muttering to himself and stomping down the hallway like a man about to fly himself off to Rousseau and end the mission himself.

“At least it’s over now,” you sighed.

“Would’ve been over a long time ago if we hadn’t started improvising with the hired help,” Ghost groused.

“How many times, Ghost. We tried your plan and we failed, we worked mine out and we passed,” König growled. “Doesn’t matter how many times you whine about it, the plan worked and that’s all that matters.”

“Is it? Is that all that matters?”

“Yes. We all wanted out and now we’re out. Job done,” König groaned. “What else is there to bitch about?”

“It’s not bitching when I have legitimate concerns about letting a private contractor shit all over my team’s dynamic and split us up!”

“What dynamic is that? The one where you get them all killed?”

Ghost flew toward König again, except this time none of you were allowing it. You, Gaz and Soap leapt toward your Lieutenant while Horangi acted as a barrier, keeping a steady hand on König’s flaring chest. All of you struggled as Ghost threatened to explode, but in a matter of seconds he calmed enough to see he wasn’t going to be allowed his revenge and broke away, grumbling that he’d leave it.

König watched the exchange between you all and laughed to himself, the little titter escaping the thick fabric of his hood even as he tried to keep it soft. You glared over at him, not appreciating his antagonising just as you’d managed to get a grip of Ghost, though he rolled his eyes at you and walked off.

Only when he was around the corner did you finally feel it was fit to let Ghost have it.

“What the fuck was that, LT?”

“What do you mean what the fuck was that?” he growled.

The way Ghost looked at you, the way his eyes glinted like he was settling on a new target, normally would’ve had you crumbling like brittle harling in a storm but you were resolute in your mission. You straightened your shoulders and walked up to him, not letting the disappointment fade from your face.

In your periphery, you caught your fellow teammates giving you a shared look of fear. Soap and Gaz more than made up for what you lacked in that moment, but you ignored them keeping your mind focused completely on Ghost.

“Price cleared the op to run just as we practised it there, just as it was successfully run and you want to have a go at König because he happened to make a valid suggestion?”

“I’m not having a go, I’m pissed that we’re taking orders from paid guns that shouldn’t even be here in the first place! This was supposed to be our mission, Price assembled our taskforce back together all to take down Rousseau and what happens? The government get involved with KorTac and suddenly we have to play nice with money grubbing slime balls. It’s all not right, Sneaky, and I won’t sit by and take it!”

“It might not be right, but it's the situation we’re in. You might not like König, and things have been…not ideal with all thats happened, but like it or not he made a good call and Price recognised it for what it was.”

Ghost grunted and was about to fire back another load of verbal ammunition, though Soap interjected before he could say anything else.

“Sneak’s right, Ghost. If they’re telling you to let the König thing go, then let it go. Sneak has the most right out of anyone to be pissed about König calling the shots, and they’re not. Fuck sake, Ghost, even Price hates the man. If Price likes his plan, then its a good plan.”

You raised your brows, surprised at seeing Soap opposing Ghost for once. He walked over to you and stood shoulder to shoulder, holding the giant back as he teetered on the verge of a rampage. The warmth of Soap brought a calm to your bones and now that you knew you had someone else supporting you, you let out a breath you’d barely been aware of holding.

You so rarely had to butt heads with your Lieutenant, you’d never get used to the feeling. Your bones felt like they were rattling with the energy it required.

“You don’t have to worry about the team dynamic, Ghost,” you continued, hoping to expel the last of his anger. “In fact arguing with König is more of an issue than anything that he or any of KorTac can do. We get through this mission and take down Rousseau, then KorTac will leave and we can get back to our jobs until the 141 is called on again. If we fuck this up then we’ll be dealing with losses and we’ll have to keep working with them. We just need to get through this and its done…ok?”

Ghost sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor. Silence reigned for a few beats, but eventually he looked back up and eyed you and Soap and Gaz who’d moved to your other side. The blue in his darkened irises could’ve been swamp water with the way they’d been tainted with frustration. Though even with all of his anger at the situation, he had visibly sagged as he recognised he was looking at things wrong.

“You’re right,” he grunted, rubbing his head and furling up his mask. “I’ll go apologise and see if I can’t get through the rest of our time together without murdering the bastard. Like you say, Sneak - not long till he fucks off.”

With that he left to go slink down the hall and catch König, still grumbling to himself even as he retreated. You and the rest of 141 laughed as he turned the corner and eyed each other, smiles slowly spreading across your mouths as if you’d just turned up to a mad hatters tea party. A moment of euphoria shared as you thanked your lucky stars that Ghost didn’t go Godzilla on all of you before he carried on with murdering König just as he’d said.

Though a small part of you still worried for your boyfriend. You’d winced a little when Ghost insulted him, but on the other side of the coin, you realised that with the mission coming to a close soon you’d be able to stop the obligatory concerns that came with König being on base. Soon you could carry on with your illicit affair and not worry one bit that Price would be any the wiser. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, right?

“Thought for sure ma neck was gonna get snapped there,” Soap chuckled.

“I know, I was picturing being the next skull he wore,” Gaz laughed, his nervousness expelled in a low rasp. “Fuck, Sneak. Next time you want to go on a crusade, give us a bit of warning.”

“I’d have loved to have given myself warning,” you snorted, still in disbelief you’d stood up to Ghost. “It just came out of me out of nowhere. If anyone was getting scalped there, it was gonna be me.”

“Well…at the very least, thank jesus,” Soap smirked, “Ghost listened rather than wringing yer little brass neck. But you know what, Sneaky? Next time you decide to have a brave moment like that, leave us the fuck out of it!”

“Yeah, let us get out of the blast radius first, and then go at him,” Gaz laughed, slapping your shoulder.

With that they both walked off to the showers together and you rolled your eyes, following after them so that you weren’t hanging around the hallway by yourself. Your weary boots slapped against the floors and you continued to joke as you rounded the corner, feeling at ease as you got your mind focused on getting ready for the mission and the calm that would ensue after its completion.

When you got to the changing room though, you frowned when you saw König’s things scattered. Normally he wasn’t one for throwing things around, he was usually quite careful to pile things up. However his shirt was sprawled on the ground and his trousers were hung over the benches like a set of bowlegs straddling a horse. Most unsettling of all was when you’d glanced down and saw the wooden bird you’d given him months before laying on the floor just under his upturned pockets.

“Huh, big man must’ve been in a hurry to shower,” Soap noted.

“Probably wanted to try and hurry to avoid Ghost,” Gaz snorted. “Not that I can blame him, I’d hide from the LT too if I knew he was after me.”

You laughed along with the guys because it seemed like the thing to do, but the smile on your face dropped instantly afterward. Something wasn’t right. You gulped and looked over the mess of his clothes one last time and bit your lip, barely feeling the harsh scrape of your canine against your soft flesh.

“You gonna wash up, Sneak?” Gaz asked, elbowing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re standing there like a spare prick, Sneaky,” Soap laughed. “You gonna shower? Or are you cooking up a little pre-mission prank?”

“Don’t encourage that, Soap,” Gaz laughed. “We need to put all that to rest. Like Ghost said, this is the last time we have to see the guy. Let’s just get past it and pray we don’t ever work with KorTac again.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you said, stopping Soap in his tracks just as he picked up the hem of König’s shirt. “I agree with Gaz, let’s leave it, alright? I’m just gonna see where Ghost got to first then I’ll go shower. His stuff’s not here, so he must’ve gone off and I figure I should make sure he got away from König in one piece.”

“Ghost getting away from König?” Gaz snorted. “Think I’d worry more for the other way around…if I gave a shit about König that is.”

You gave another little weak laugh and walked off without anything else to say. You didn’t have anything else in the chamber. Your mind was too busy reeling and wondering where Ghost got to and why König’s stuff was laid out everywhere and all the ways you could combine those pieces of information into horrible conclusions.

You walked through the doorway to the opposite corridor and mindlessly carried yourself forward while your skin burned too hot and your stomach tightened into tiny knots.

Did they have an argument? Did Ghost notice something about König’s things that gave you both away? Had he seen the bird and known it was yours? If so, how? You’d never shown anyone else the bird that you could remember, but then you cursed to yourself as you remembered your less than sound mental state and struggled to try and remember if you possibly had told the guys or shown them the bird at any point.

Why did König have to carry it around with him? Why couldn’t he have left it in his room on base or secreted it away somewhere safe?

Were you being crazy? You reasoned you were being crazy. Maybe he really had just left his things in a hurry. Perhaps he did just want to get through his-

You felt your blood run cold when you heard a low growl tear you from your thoughts and speak your name, your real name.

“You look lost.”

You glanced up after trailing your eyes along the gloomy grey floor and shivered as you finally noticed Ghost towering above you, casting a mighty shadow. He had his eyes fixed on you like a shark, cold and deadly as he surveyed your trembling form. He was glaring hot pits into your skin and from that moment on you had absolutely no doubt that he was onto you.

He’d never looked at you like that in his entire time leading you. He looked furious, distressed, agitated, so many emotions were etched those glaring dark eyes of his and you were losing track trying to figure out how to best appeal to him.

“I was trying to find you,” you murmured, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Why would you be doing that then, ay?” he gritted out, walking toward you cornering you into a wall.

His boots sounded against the floor like canons. With the way he was acting, you worried he’d shove you and crush you underneath them. Though maybe that would be kinder than the fate he had in store for you…

“You.. you- uh, tossed König’s things didn’t you?” you whimpered.

“I did.”

“Why?” you breathed, feeling your eyes welling with tears before you could even attempt to think of calming yourself.

“I’ll admit I got angry at the thought of having to go crawling and apologising to him and I lost it. I knocked his things off the bench. It went everywhere and shit went scattering out his pockets, y’know he left his wallet in his trousers, stupid cunt. Shouldn’t even have personal shit on a training exercise, but I suppose that’s what happens when you hire a bunch of undisciplined mercs… you know what I happened to see when I spotted his wallet though? You have any guesses, Sneak?”

You gulped and all of a sudden, it became all too clear to you exactly how Ghost had caught you out.

“The photos,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” Ghost growled, “I saw the fucking photos of you two poking out of it.”

Next part here

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

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peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Fae!Price/female reader This is a little piece of Long and Lost from this world.

Inside the pub on main, there is a girl.

She’s a normal girl, to most, perfectly ordinary in nearly every way. She works her job, sees her coworkers, visits the darkly lit bar for a pint every now and then. Within the throngs of people drinking and eating and laughing, she appears like any other. Dark eyes watching the television with mild interest, glancing across other people’s faces politely. A brown coat, dusky orange scarf, a pair of blue jeans. Black leather boots that are scuffed at the toe. She orders a beer, keeps to herself, and minds her manners. She blends in so seamlessly, you’d never take a second look her way if you were in this bar, drinking with your friends, having a laugh.

The only thing that could possibly distinguish her, is the black ribbed turtleneck. The bartender has never seen in her any other shirt, even in the summer. He assumes it’s because she’s a creature of comfort who likes what she likes, the type who enjoys a staple piece. It’s how he thinks of her, whenever she settles herself at his bar. The turtleneck girl.

He doesn’t know the turtleneck hides the most unique thing anyone in this town would ever see. He doesn’t know that the skin beneath her jaw glows with a sea glass green mark, one that calls to a world beyond a veil, that shines like a lighthouse guiding its lover home through treacherous seas. A mark unique in its shape, size and power, unlike any of this realm, or any realm, save for one.

It’s nearly midnight when they arrive.

Almost everyone has gone home for the evening, and only the bartender, the turtleneck girl, and the old man linger.

When the bell chimes, they all glance at the newcomers, and only the girl does not say hello. She does not say anything in fact, choosing to look immediately down into her half empty pint, turning the options over in her mind. The bartender welcomes them, directs them to choose a place a sit, wherever they like, hospitality their kind does not deserve, a truth no one here could know, except for her. The back door is so, so close to where she’s perched, and she could make it, if she ran. If she flew, she could be outside the pub and over the rooftops in seconds, leaving this town to the ash, to the destruction that the 141 will surely wring from its bones, as they do most places, in most realms.

A trace of power slithers across her skin. It’s a probe, an inquiry of some kind, scratching at the shell surrounding her magic, tapping against the ethereal light that sits trapped inside her chest. Her muscles tense, thighs shaking with the effort to hold still, hold her breathe, hold herself at bay. She wants to explode, wants to Shine inside this pub and shred the Fae hunters to pieces, wipe them from this plane of existence and send them back to their own.

They’re war addicted, hungry beasts. They don’t belong here.

But they’re not the only monsters in this room.

She shoves the power away, shoves it as hard as she can, a pulsing shockwave that rattles the foundation, and leaps from her stool, sprinting out the back door, run, run, run-

She makes it as far as the alley before she feels the Prince’s sun kissed whip around her throat, jerking her backwards like an animal, restraints wrapping around wrists and legs, forcing her to her knees.

Maybe if she begs, if she cries, they’ll let her go. They’ll spare her.

“It’s not me.” She croaks, flexing against the sun searing rope that stays taut around her neck. “You’ve made a mistake. Release me.”

“I don’t think so.” The Prince croons, smiling in a sick, sadistic way that turns her stomach. She rails against the binding, straining with everything inside of her, urging her power up through her pores, wings screaming beneath the sinew at her back. Shine, they cry. Shine and blow them all back to Faerie.

It’s no use. She’s no match for a single Fae in this world, let alone four of the most powerful, not with how weak she’s grown.

The Captain settles himself on the pavement, bending at the knees, still straight backed and proud, blue eyes meeting her head on. He’s not afraid, does not tremble, does not falter before her like the others who have tried to collect their bounty have.

“Fuck you.” She sniffs, turning her face away. The other three loom in the background, unmistakable now that they’ve dropped their Glamour.

The Ghost.

The Chaos.

The Prince.

The 141, in the flesh.

The Captain rises to his full height, motioning for the Ghost, some sort of magical bond sizzling through the air, communication that burns in the breeze on this cold winter’s night. “You’re in a lot of trouble, little angel. And so far from home, too.” He cocks his head, arms crossed across his chest, and she snarls, snapping her teeth.

“Keep your cretinous fucking hands off me.” She spits, and John Price only smiles, cupping her jaw in a wide, warm palm.

“No.”

#we love an enemies to lovers in this house #fae!au #fae!Price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #peaches writes #I really just want to write fantasy books like a loser

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

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HEYYY just wondering if I can do a request of an experimented reader? (They can be any animal or anything)

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Patient 001 // 141 Mini Drabbles

Warning(s): FailedExperiment!reader, gn!reader, medical procedures, drugging mention, kidnapping, blood, injury, death, animal testing mention, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n Word Count: 2.6k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

A/N: I hope this isn't too dark for what the anon requested. If it is, I apologize. I've been interested in this plot line for a bit, and wanted to write something for it!

SYNOPSIS; You're a failed scientific experiment. Once a civilian, now a half-human that had gone through hell. Your other half, now a mutated creature.

To no longer be human would be a blessing. But that part of you stayed, partially. Still terrorized from the experiments, the tests, the documentation of your transformation.

Then came the day you were found.

MISSION BRIEFING; Their orders were simple.

Evacuate innocent technicians — and most importantly — find the location of the catastrophic chemical component, before it ends up in the wrong hands.

What was behind the doors, they'd certainly never forget.

Ghost

His rifle remained raised in front of him as he swept each room. It was obvious the enemy knew they were coming. All he'd found so far were empty sterile spaces, understimulating exam rooms, or numbing cubicles filled to the brim with charts.

Until he heard it.

A sickening screech, like that of a person possessed by a demon. Echoing off the tile walls, much too loud for the lung capacity of a human - and in deep anguish.

Simon's heart stopped when he pushed through the double doors, seeing a huddled figure left behind bars. Not a scientist left behind. Not a prisoner of war. Something.

The glow of your eyes reflected off the blinding white fluorescents, irises matching that of crimson. Your flesh, once human-like, is now sunken and riddled with healed slashes. Most of them self-inflicted, from when you thrashed against your restraints.

When you saw the figure, looming and dormant, it reminded you of the scientists that spent hours observing your changes. How you shrieked when touched when something as small as a pin dropped. Every noise was heightened, making your ears ring painfully. Your hearing could track the sound of potential prey for miles. And your tender skin? Only soothed when you weren't lucid enough to remember the pokes and prods.

Every week, it was a new serum, a new component. Something they would give you to study its effects on your body. Whatever you were, it was a mystery. All you did know was that you craved the metallic taste of blood.

Similar to that of a hungry hound, or that of urban legends that hunt unsuspecting hikers. But you weren't cruel. You weren't a cold-blooded beast that wanted to rip their throats out. That's what kept you around so long.

Your empathy never subsided, like it was supposed to. Your feedings were only that of animal blood or the human samples they gave you in the hope that it would progress the experiment. It never did. It only left you in that cell longer; fearsome and isolated.

"Christ..." Simon muttered to himself, eyes wide. The figure approached the enclosure, his rifle lowered when he observed your fear. He wasn't holding a syringe, not a clipboard, not a video camera, not even a vile of blood for you to choke down. Your vermillion gaze inspected the man with uncertainty, who looked like that of a soldier.

Your fatigued limps crawled across the scuffed cement until you could use the bars to find your feet. Something you couldn't do when the scientists were monitoring you. After so long huddled on the ground or writhing on the cot, it was a relief, if that was possible anymore.

Despite his best judgment, his fingers reached through the bars until they found your fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, his British rasp ringing through your overly-sensitive ears. For the first time in months, you touched the warm flesh of a human hand, not an unempathetic gloved one.

It was a natural reaction to flinch; that primal side of you overshadowing the human one. But you still had the ability to find genuine empathy in his amber eyes. Your hand wrapped tightly around his through the gap in the bars, savoring the once-deprived human contact. "Do you remember your name?"

Price

Price took the riskiest route; the one he wouldn't dare send his team into head-first. The pathway that took him through each of the hidden laboratories — the one only countless hours of digging for intel made him aware of.

It was more chilling than he foresaw.

Rows of exam rooms, shelves of unknown components, countless cages of small animals. All that is expected in a covert scientific compound.

That is... until he stumbled upon a sealed room different from the others. One that could only be inhabited by a human being. He stared in each direction of the hallway, finding a keycard left on one of the bodies.

It was his duty to clear every room, no matter how disturbing the contents would be. Behind the plate glass room that resembled that of an enclosure. A small table and two chairs, a video camera, and most shockingly — the trembling figure in restraints on a thin foam mattress. One who has clearly been poked and prodded for months straight, littered with scars and an almost inhuman appearance.

The man approaching you wasn't a threat, but that didn't stop your body's natural reaction to hide. After months of enduring tests and experiments, being monitored like some sort of creature — it was hard to trust anyone. "My God... What have they done to you?" Price murmured as he approached the cot, fingers finding each tube and removing them one by one.

His expression was one of pity and disgust as his mind imagined all the awful things they put you and your body through. Countless months of research and injecting new components into you clearly didn't turn you into some monster.

You were frightened and in agony — still human underneath it all.

"Can you move your fingers for me? Your legs?" He asked softly, bent down next to your bed. Your shaky fingers finally gained some movement, after he had cut off the constant drip of sedatives. Next, you hesitantly untucked your legs, feeling your bare feet touch the icy tile for the first time in months. It was like learning how to walk all over again, except now you weren't the same you.

Your senses were heightened — smell, eyesight, hearing, and most of all touch. His palm found the small of your back as he led you to the door of your cell, using the keycard he swiped to unlock it from the inside.

As he led you through the corridors, he grabbed a spare lab coat off one of the racks, placing it over your shivering shoulders. No scrubs, no sweats, only a loose white gown. If he wasn't so focused on keeping his eyes peeled for hostiles, he would've given you his own jacket. The entire building had to be kept cool and they hadn't bothered to give you something warmer to wear.

He spoke into his radio, alerting the rest of his team as they combed through the rest of the compound. Right now, his priority was making sure you ended up somewhere safe tonight. "You're safe now, alright? Nobody will put their hands on you again."

Not a place with sterile white walls, a bed to sleep in with more than a thin foam pad, a place where your every move wasn't monitored. A place where the human part of you could feel safe again.

Soap

The power to the compound was cut off when Soap's team breached the tight security system. It was a faulty system — unlocking all the electronically sealed doors instead of the opposite. And the lights, instead of a blinding white, were dim and flickered repeatedly. Most likely the emergency ones.

Enough light to guide you through the corridors, but not enough for his trained eyes to be entirely sure of no threats.

He was using his instincts, his sensory training; all he had to rely on as he crept through the halls. Eerily silent halls. The only sound is the hum of all the technology littering this place and his boots hitting the smooth tile.

Eventually, he found one of the testing rooms; a place that is bound to have some chemical components stored.

Through the glass viewing window, he could see that this space was heavily used. Video cameras, viewing chairs, viles and IV bags stored on refrigerators shelves. Most chilling - the chair with restraints. The one you’d been bound to so many times, poked and prodded by medical tools.

The longer it went on, you felt it more. You weren’t lucky enough to go numb to the pain. It had the opposite effect. Every ache, every stab, every head-splitting migraine.

Soap’s brows knitted together in focus as he maintained his stealth, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of actionable intel. Though this room was dimmer than the rest, with emergency lights even more faulty than the ones in the rest of the building. He had to squint to clear the space in front of him, which hindered the rest of his senses.

Perhaps that's the reason he didn't hear the enemy behind him, or why he got a few stabs into Johnny's abdomen before he managed to fight him off. He slumped against the wall of the lab, comms jammed and unintelligible. Soap had convinced himself this was it, the moment he began seeing double from blood loss.

This was your long-awaited opportunity to escape - the electronic lock on your room failed when the compound was breached. You glided down the corridors, eyes trained ahead of you. What would the world out there be like? Would you ever have a semi-normal life again? This wasn't something you just move on from.

A sharp pain in your abdomen made you wince. But it wasn't pain from a true injury; it was a phantom ache. Someone nearby was hurt — someone deserving of your help.

It was a heavy debate; make your escape now, leave the maimed individual to fend for themselves. But your empathy outweighed your selfishness. The faint distressed prayers got louder as you crept inside one of the testing rooms.

The figure, one of a soldier, clutching his stomach in the same spot you had just felt the pain. Soap's eyes could barely adjust to the person approaching him, only managing a mumble. From his perspective, it must've been terrifying. A gowned, sickly patient with shaky hands outstretched to him.

He made his best attempt to fight you — which wasn't much of a fight at all. You lifted the crimson-soaked tee, wincing as the phantom pain kicked into high gear. The closer you got to a person in pain, the more intensity there was. It was time to use your new abilities by choice. Not one of the scientist's papercuts, not a wound they intentionally inflicted on a lab animal.

Your hands hovered over his inflamed stab wounds, teeth gritted in focus as you knelt next to him. One moment, Soap was delirious from blood loss, sputtering out incomprehensible phrases. The next, the searing in his abdomen reduced to a mild ache.

Then a tickle. And then nothing except the warmth radiating off your fingertips. The stab wounds faded from his flesh right before his eyes.

You had taken away his pain; somehow, in some way.

For a moment, he imagined this was heaven. An angel of mercy escorting him to the high place, though he was always convinced he'd end up in the fiery one. When not blinded by pain, he could finally muster the ability to speak again. "Who are you?" He wanted to ask what you were, but the empathy bleeding from your eyes pulled at his heartstrings. Those eyes; cloudy on the irises. And your sickly features, now filled with more life after healing him.

You were much too drained to answer. It was your first time saving a human in such a critical condition. Healing drained every ounce of energy from you. Before you could answer, he rose to his feet, wrapping one of the stray quilts around your trembling shoulders. "Ye saved my life, it's the least I can do."

Gaz

The raid was by no means straightforward. Nonetheless, it was strange to Gaz how few intel pieces he found. A few files he skimmed, some compelling blueprints — but nothing actionable. Once again, the rules of engagement prevented him from pushing the bounds of the code he followed. Another catastrophe is around the corner with an aloof public, yet there's nothing he can do but follow orders.

But there was more to this facility than met his eyes. Kyle knew it, and his instinct was rarely wrong.

There was a rattle on one of the lower levels, like that of a chair scraping against the floor. A faint scream. Then silence. No gunshots, no explosions, no enemies making callouts, not even his comms alerting him to check that level. It was obvious he was the only one who heard it.

He kept his sidearm raised ahead of him, eyes dancing around the motionless halls of the place. Whatever it was, he was going to find it; with or without following orders. "Anybody down here?" Gaz's own voice echoed off the walls. Still, no sound followed, not while he crept down the flight of stairs. Down the hall, he swept every room, finding nothing and no one once again.

Get out of there, Garrick. There's nothing here.

Price's comm almost swayed him — almost made his shaking hand that was hovering over the last door knob lower. Then he heard another clatter inside the room, one he couldn't ignore, despite his Captain's firm orders to evac.

He could take a serious hit for this, he knew that.

It wouldn't be his first time pushing the limits. Every time he did, he saved someone or something. If he didn't do that this time; he wasn't sure he could handle that weighing on his conscience.

It wasn't an enemy, he would've attacked the Sergeant's weak points by now. Kyle opened the door labeled Observation — his last hope of making this treacherous move worth it. Another shuffle sounded from inside. "If you're in here, show yourself!" The door creaked open as his sidearm remained at the ready, though it quickly dropped to his side when he caught a glimpse of the gruesome scene.

You curled into a ball and let out gasps and whimpers. Around you, a blood trail led up to the body of one of the technicians. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you heard the shots, and his hands were on you. You acted on mere impulse, which seemed to be more common after all the experimentations.

Gaz felt like he had dry-swallowed a big pill. You weren't a hostile, not even a scientist. You were some form of maltreated lab rat — one that had finally snapped and didn't know what to do with themselves.

You raised your head from your hands, showing him your face wrinkled with both fright and shock. An obvious adrenaline high, from what he was seeing. Kyle held out a hand, holstering his weapon as he approached slowly. "I'm here to help, alright?" He spoke cautiously, kneeling beside you to meet your crouched level. His hand found your forearm, tracing a hand over the number tattooed on your skin.

The thought was sickening — a human being meddled with, imprisoned in this place for testing. His instincts were proven right again, yet another person he could still save. It was tempting to act on that instinct again, to put up your walls. But this soldier was your last chance at freedom, and whatever half-normal life you might be able to salvage after all this.

His hands found your waist next, guiding you to a standing position. "You stay behind me and you'll get out of here. I promise you." Kyle spoke to you softly, before leading the way out of there. You'd never seen the outside of the observation room, not once in all the time you had been kept there.

He allowed you to cling to him as he retraced his steps, ascending the staircase. Gaz had saved you — point blank. Any longer, and you would've been an abandoned trial by the scientists, or wrongfully executed during the siege.

No amount of paperwork would make this choice any less worth it.

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mockerycrow · 5 months

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SICK MOMENTS; Gaz Edition (GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist — gaz render by @ave661 <3

summary; this is the second part of my four part series of the 141 taking care of you, who’s sick. enjoy!

[WARNINGS; sickness, medication, civilian!reader, slight military inaccuracies, sick comfort.]

YOU’VE BEEN FEELING quite under the weather for the past two days. A weird pressure in your skull, a tickle in the throat. You didn’t really think much of it as you had much more important things to focus on like your job. You usually switch between working from home and working in an office setting every other day and unfortunately, your illness decides to make an appearance when you’re in the office.

You’re sitting in your office with all of your lights off, your computer screen turned down to low brightness. You’re squinting as you’re staring at the screen that is burning your eyes, an impossible to ignore pain settling in your skull and rattling around inside.

You make the mistake of swallowing, your throat muscles spasming when they figure out they’re tender, sore, and uncomfortable. You wince at the sharp pain as your hand reflexively goes to the front of your throat, your stomach churning uncomfortably. You sigh quietly, unable to deny that you’re indeed sick. You take a glance at the time on your computer and you realize you’re not even halfway through your workday yet. You contemplate what you should do; a good thing for yourself is to go home and rest but you have deadlines you can’t ignore. You decide that you should try to work through it. It’s not like sitting at a computer screen is taxing, right?

..Right?

An hour later and you’re having to save your documents and powering down your computer, your hands trembling as the pounding in your head is nearing unbearable. Tears spring up in your eyes, nearly spilling as you croak out a voice command for your phone to call Kyle. You hear your phone dial up and begin to ring his number. A crumbling guilt settles in your stomach as you know Kyle has to be on the local base right now, doing whatever he is doing. Your mind begins to race, saying that he’s going to be too busy to help you out, that calling him is a waste of time. You don’t even realize he picked up after the third ring.

You snap out of your state of overthinking after you hear Kyle’s calm voice call your name for likely the second or third time. “What’s going on?” Kyle asks, his voice ever so slightly muffled by the quality of the speaker—and your hearing is probably a bit scuffed, too. “Sorry if I’m bothering you, but..” You croak, grimacing at how horrible you sound. “..Can you come pick me up from work?”

“You’re never a bother, love.” Kyle reassures, his voice considerably softer than his previous sentence. “Are you feeling alright? You don’t sound too well.” You shake your head no before remembering it’s only a phone call and not a video call—and you regret shaking your head as your vision spins for a moment. “No,” You utter, the ache in your throat worsening. “I’ve come down with.. something. Not sure yet.”

You hear shuffling and Kyle’s muffled voice say something, something that wasn’t directed towards you so you pay no mind to it. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. I’ll pick up some medicine on the way to ya, yeah?” Kyle murmurs, making your chest all fuzzy with how concerned he seems. “Mhm,” You him. “Love you.”

“I love you too, see you soon.” And with that, Kyle hangs up.

It doesn’t take him too long to leave the base and pick up some medicine, but to you? It feels like an eternity. You sit there in the dark, occasionally tapping the screen of your phone so you can check the time. You feel like your guts are churning and twisting and you feel like someone is taking a sledgehammer and is ringing a bell—like one of those giant bells you can find at Christian churches that ring every hour. There’s a soft knock at your door, which you croak a sickly “come in”, assuming it’s your knight in shining armor as you already got the okay from your boss to leave through text.

The door opens, letting the light pour in which makes you wince. You recognize the silhouette and the stature of the person almost immediately—it’s Kyle. “Hey,” He calls out to you softly. You can’t see his face, but you can tell he’s wearing the zip up you bought for him months ago on his birthday and he’s holding a plastic bag. Your lips curl into a small smile, and your pain fades for a moment as the fact that he wears the hoodie you bought him to work hits you. Kyle closes your office door and finds his way to your desk in the dark. “Hey.” You echo, your voice gritty and scratchy.

“I’m going to turn on your desk lamp, alright?” Kyle hums as he sets the plastic bag of goods down onto your desk. “Alright.” You echo once again, your voice quieter than before. You dreaded the light. Alas, he turns the light on and you see his beautiful brown eyes look at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly with concern very apparent on his face. “Aw, sweetheart.” Kyle utters, which gives you an idea that you likely don’t look too well. His hand reaches out to touch your forehead; his palm then flips to the back of his hand. “You’re burnin’ up. Good thing I got medicine, hm?”

You lean into his touch, Kyle’s hand cupping down to your cheek instead. “Sweaty,” Kyle points out, making you huff. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You reply with a playful snark, but you sound a bit pathetic from how stuffy you sound. “It’s sergeant, actually.” He replies with a grin, making you snort—and then wince because it hurt your entire head. Kyle begins to grab items from the bag; pain and fever reducers, cough drops, anti-congestant, a bottle of water.. And a box of tea for home, despite already having likely a box already waiting in the cabinet.

You watch with a warm stomach as Kyle pops out the pills for you and you notice he did his research for what medicine could go with what. “I love you.” You blurt out suddenly, meeting Kyle’s eyes. He blinks for a moment before smiling—his fucking smile—and responding with a tilted up tone, questioning. “I love you too..?” Kyle questions the sudden pushed tone, but you don’t elaborate as you stare up at him, thinking about how you’re going to marry this man one day as he frets over your health without complaint.

🏷️; @mlmxreader @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheeto @frazie99 @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch

SHHH i didn’t forget the tag list, you did. /j

wrongly tagged? let me know!! if you aren’t tagged, i was confused about your taglist form or i couldn’t because of your settings. join the taglist here

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tanked-up · 5 months

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The 141 has a thing with TikTok… Let me tell you how it all started.

~~~~~~~

Soap’s fuckin obsessed with his phone. In mission’s debriefs you see him glued on his phone with no bother paying attention. This has caused Price to call him out several times, but still it was no use. Gaz and Ghost made it their mission to find out the reason behind it. So when Soap was out training some recruits, they sneaked into his dorm and looked around for his phone. Twenty minutes passed and they had nothing, they knew how Soap always left the phone behind when it was time to train, so the phone not being in his dorm, was weird.

Fast forward three days and they’re all eating on a small cafeteria where Soap was indeed, still glued on his phone. The 141 all exchanged looks and stared at Soap. Ghost seemed to have enough when he yanked the phone out of his hand, and started browsing on whatever Soap was watching.

It all went downhill

Gaz and Price stared at Ghost whose eyes were about to pop out any moment now while Soap sunk in his chair. Gaz took a peak at what Ghost was watching and Oh My God. “What an angle, Soap” was all Gaz said.

Gaz grabbed the phone out of Ghost’s hand and started swiping down, fastly. Mouth open at every video that seemed to appear. “Did the recruits talk you into this… The likes HOLY-”

Price had enough and snatched the phone off Gaz’s hand and how did he hope he hadn’t done that. “Ass, Soap?”

Keep in mind, Soap had sunk in his chair, face down, with no bother to confront them. “I do have an ass…” Ghost replied

“Give me the phone-” Soap muttered while trying to take the phone off Price’s hands, but the grip was too strong. “Don’t you want a better view?” Ghost now teased while grabbing the phone and somehow “videoing” his behind.

“That’s enough guys.” Gaz handed Soap his phone and now both Ghost and Price waited for an explanation. “Mind to tell us why you’ve been taking videos of Ghost and me, and in those angles which are…” Price started “… well, questionable”

“It’s got likes and views…” Was all Soap had to say

“I do like a bit of praise… and would it hurt you too, Price” Ghost said

“Might as well and start an only fans, Simon” Price scuffed

Days passed and Ghost nor Price seemed to mind, instead they all gave Soap “Ideas” to help him get views and likes, much for Ghost’s likening.

#Bit of obsessed with COD TikTok rn #ghostsoap #call of duty #john soap mactavish #tiktok #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #ghost mw2 #simon riley #john price #gaz mw2 #cod meme #incorrect cod quotes #incorrect quotations #price cod #ghostprice

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ghostsbimbo · 4 months

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TF141 x Disabled!Reader; Cerebral Palsy

a/n: writing this from my own experience. i am mobile & independent w/o aids due to years of physical therapy, but it's getting harder. Please note, this disability is rare. There isn't much representation in media either, it's quite hard to find, there's 2 or 3 actors, a comedian or two. so I kind of want a small thing, y'know?

Task Force 141 [ General Statement ]

Okay, so this disability is rare (200k cases per year in the US - I do not know about other countries). I have the genuine belief that when they first meet you and you tell them that you have the disability, they actually start looking it up right in front of you. Not only out of curiosity, but because they want to help you.

John Price

He knew it was one of those days for you. He could tell just from you sitting up in bed and hearing the wince you had tried so hard to hide from him. He sighed softly, mentally questioning himself before finally deciding to ask it. "Wheelchair and cane day, love?" "Yeah...Wheelchair and cane day." You admitted, sighing softly. He sat up and leaned over, kissing your head before getting out of your shared bed, ready to help get you whatever you needed.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You two were at home while he was on leave, eating dinner - steak, a favorite of yours - but you were struggling with cutting it with the knife. Growing up physical therapy focused on the use of your dominant hand - especially with writing - so when it came to using your non-dominant hand? it was beyond a struggle to do things. Cutting up foods was one of them. "You want my help, love?" Simon asked, tilting his head. He understood you didn't like asking him for help, he understood you wanted independence when it came to even the simplest things, but he could also tell when you were getting frustrated. You simply nodded, placing the fork and knife down and carefully pushing the plate over to his side for help.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You tried your best to not be a messy eater. Like, to the point where you were constantly wiping your mouth, taking small bites of food, eating slow. but then there were days you just couldn't put that much brain power into being a conscious eater. It was a 'low spoons day' as you put it. Your body already hurt constantly due to your stiff muscles, which took a lot out of you on rainy days, so why make the effort to not be messy considering your body was already in so much pain. "Babe...You uh, got a little..." Gaz started, before getting a paper towel and carefully wiping the ice cream off your upper lip and the tip of your nose. You just blushed brightly and mumbled out a quick thank you and an apology. He just let out a soft chuckle and smiled at you. "It's alright, love, at leas you're enjoying something today, yeah?"

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You were scuffing your feet instead of actually walking walking. A habit that took years of physical therapy to break. You liked not having to think about not having to walk when you were in pain, but not many other people appreciated the noise. It irritated them. And that's how you got where you are now. In your work's break room, shakily texting your boyfriend to come pick you up. A customer had berated you in front of other customers and your boss in the store. He did get kicked out by your manager of course, but due to you being low spoons, that was your breaking point. Johnny was aloud in the break room on these kind of days. It was something your manager understood you might need on certain days. "C'mon love, you already clocked out, right?" You nodded and you guys walked out to his car, hand in hand with him rubbing small soothing circles on the back of your hand.

#rat writes #cod mwii #cod mwiii #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #tf141 x reader #tf141 x disabled!reader #disabled!reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #tf141 x you #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw3 x reader

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sstormyskyess · 2 months

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uhh thinking about robot!ghost

Your profession was a rare one in the British SAS. There was a stark lack of automaton soldiers, due to the stigmatization that surrounded the group, and a majority of the ones that made their way into the ranks knew how to manage their own circuits. But for the ones that didn’t, that’s where you come in.

As an advanced automaton mechanic, you’re highly proficient in the field of robotics. Your level of skill is appreciated by the few that require your expertise, as few and far between as they may be, which is exactly the reason you’re here in a quiet little cafe waiting for your newest assignment to arrive. You were able to do some personal research about them, having been allowed some of their documents to look over.

When Station Chief Kate Laswell had gotten in contact with you, you knew that it must be serious business. You’d met her a few years prior to now and your previous CO had sung your praises up and down, but you could’ve never expected that she would even remember you, let alone call you up and request your services.

So here you are, flipping through the limited pages of your new temporary team. As far as you could tell, none of them were automatons, unless one of them was the extremely rare life-like ones that looked almost scarily similar to humans. The strangest file was the one with no picture at all. The name on the file was ‘Simon Riley,’ and his nickname was ‘Ghost.’ Kind of scary, you think.

Before you have any more time to dwell on it, the bell on the door rings and Laswell walks in. She scans the room for you and smiles once she meets your eyes. She waves as she approaches and you peek behind her to see four men, all of which you recognize from the files aside from one: the one who wore a black balaclava that covered the majority of his face excluding his eyes. Ghost, you assume.

You stand up and meet them halfway, putting on your standard business smile while she introduces you, giving your name and rank. The man you recognize as Captain Price steps forward and shakes your hand firmly with a charming smile accentuated by his mustache and beard. He goes down the line introducing the rest of his squad and once he gets to Ghost, he lets the taller man step forward.

One of his gloved hands pulls back the sleeve on his left arm, presenting the inside of his wrist to you. You’re able to see through the decals on his arm the serial number imprinted on the surface of his wrist. You recognize the number immediately, rendered speechless for only a moment as you realize just how rare his model is. You’ve never met someone like him before and to be face to face with one of the most rare specimens on the planet as you knew it had you starstruck.

You’re quickly able to snap out of it so you don’t make yourself seem like a weirdo to people you just met and pull your hands away from where they were inspecting the engraved number. Ghost stays there, looking you up and down with a scrutinizing stare. “You ever worked with my model before?” His gruff voice takes you by surprise.

“Uh, no, actually. Mostly just standard models,” You explain, fiddling with the small bag of tools attached to your hip. “It’ll be interesting to work with you, lieutenant.”

And interesting it was.

You didn’t need to fix him up often; he was decent at getting out of scuffles unharmed and when he did get hit, his casing was strong enough to ward off most artillery aimed his way. Generally, you were performing simple check-ups after being out on the field, checking for damages and scuffing out minor scrapes.

The first time you had to get intensive with your repairs was a few months into your partnership with TF-141. He’d taken a bullet to the abdomen, just barely missing one of his core processors. He came back to your office barely functioning, the LEDs that constituted his eyes dim and flickering. It was a whole night ordeal fixing him, taking apart metal plates and working with deft fingers to take out malfunctioning parts and put in specially made replacements. By the time he was fully up and running, you’d been awake for seven hours straight with no breaks. You checked him over one last time and had passed out leaning on your workbench before he booted back up.

He wakes you up with a shake to your shoulders and you groan as you sit up, feeling the muscles in your neck and shoulders tensed up. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance up at him, about to ask him what was wrong, but you’re cut off by the way his eyes peer down at you. You left his face plate on out of respect for his privacy, but now you were face to face with the naked circuits behind the sheet of metal previously covering them up.

But the reason it catches you off guard is the way they’re made up. Instead of the standard flat circuit board look an automaton’s true face had, Ghost’s face is much more… human. It’s almost organic, and if one didn’t know any better, they might assume he was just a human in a robot costume. And yet, his LED eyes still peer at you, a clear sign of his inorganic nature.

“Y’forgot to put my tag back in,” he says plainly, his voice echoing out from where his mouth would be.

Right. His tag. How did you forget that? It’s one of the most important things an automaton needs: something that keeps their identity straight when compared to other automatons. Looks like you made a great impression for your first time working on his body so intimately.

You clear your throat, looking away from his face and sliding your chair over to all your tools. You sift through everything cluttering the space and eventually find his tag, standing up to put it back in place in the junction between his neck and shoulder. All the while, his eyes were locked on you, making you squirm. Why did he always have to stare at you when you were working on him? It was starting to frustrate you, but you couldn’t focus on that when his bare face was threatening to distract you. God, you wanted to inspect him further.

He leaves when you finally get the tag back into its slot, granting you a quick ‘bye,’ before closing the door behind him. Well, if you weren’t already enamored by his one-of-a-kind model, you were certainly enamored by something else, now. Great.

idk where this one came from i just like sci-fi things i guess?

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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lululandd · 4 months

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sickening (affectionately)

#ghoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #scuffed 141 #scuffed ghoap

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afaintspecter · 3 months

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first post for cod art!! rough art but! i love him very much lowkey wanna do more monster 141 art or even bits of animation (that is not as scuffed as the smoke) this is @bluegiragi's monster 141 ghost!

#ghost cod #cod #simon ghost riley #monster 141 au

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diejager · 6 months

Note

How would each of the monster 141 react if hunter were like- straight up killed in front of them. Like no wiggle room “oh they might be alive and just unconscious” but just straight up dead. Sorry I am a sucker for angst and I feel like this would be a fantastic read considering how bonded and feral they all are to protect hunter. Thanks in advance! Love the blog! Keep it up 👍

Are you trying to get me killed? Do you want me to have a heartattack?

End of the line Cw: death, suicidal thoughts, angst, mention of suicide, blood, injury, tell me if I missed any.

It had been a mistake, a costly one, but still a mistake. In that moment, everything had lost its point, the mission, the goal, the enemy and the celebration were pointless, forgettable. Time slowed, lagging behind in minutes when the shot rang out, booming in your restless minds until all they could hear was a loud thump, a body slumping down.

It was a rookie mistake made by their eagerness to return home, bodies bruised from the last deployment and still sore, skin painted in black and purple, but you pushed on, being sent from one end of the planet to the other. They were hanging on a thin thread of perseverance and training, practiced to live on perpetual soreness and exhaustion.

But that didn’t ease the pain, the open wound in their hearts. They watched you slump over, blood pooling from the wound in your chest —shot center mass. They dropped everything, Rudy rushing to turn you over, hands shaky and eyes blurry, he choked down a sob and a tear slid down his cheek. You were unresponsive, eyes glazed and dull, the light that they all loved gone in a breath. You upper torso bled, a bullet pierced through your kevlar vest, the bullet’s calibre higher than anything they expected.

Ghost joined Rudy, desperate to see if there were a chance to resuscitate you, to bring you back to them. His hands were frantic, tremors wracking his whole body as he loomed forward, trying to find a pulse, hand pressing against your still warm throat. He felt his fears surging forward, the dark voice at the back of his mind grinding out words, terrors that followed him at every step. It was like the last Christmas, when Tommy and Beth died, when Joseph and his mom were shot, when the people he cared for were killed.

Ghost felt his voice leave him, croaky and dying, it made him unable to utter a single word, and so was Rudy, mind blank. So Alejandro was the one to tell the verdict, but they hadn’t needed him to tell them to know. Soap, König and Horangi heard your heart stop, the powerful muscle in your chest explode from the bullet and grow silent. The pain clawed at their hearts, the overbearing weight on their chest made their retreat harder.

However much Price wanted to cry, to fall to his knees as cradle your body against his chest, he was the TF’s leader, he had to bring the rest of them back home. He ordered Gaz back from his perch for the sniper after he dealt with it, Gaz’s advanced sight catching the glint of the scope. Holding the title of a Task Force’s captain meant a lot, it placed a certain amount of responsibility on his shoulder and he couldn’t let his men down. Price could let a few tears slip, but he had to hold it in until he had a moment to himself in the silence of his office.

Gaz was silent during and afterwards, watching your limp body being carried in König’s arms until you reached the aircraft piloted by Nikolai who shared an equally heartbroken and saddened expression as them. His voice died with you, unable to voice his mind or his sorrows, confining himself to his room in silence. Although he lost himself, he had the others to bring him back like you did when Ghost wandered too deeply into his mind, bringing back up memories.

Soap did what he knew best, throwing himself into the fray, overworking himself with solo mission and spearheading other joint work. He almost worked himself to the bone until Horangi pulled him back, scuffing him and beating your wishes into his mind, telling him that you wouldn’t want them to break away like this, to wither away as if they were never here.

Despite helping Soap, Horangi suffered the same as the werewolf did, silently crying himself to sleep, fingers clawing at his head in desperation to quiet down the loud screeches in his mind, degrading words thrown at himself for failing you. He knew you didn’t want him to hate himself, but how could he quell the bleeding wound in his heart when you weren’t here to ease the pain away? The memory of you did.

Alejandro tried his best, acting and trying to feel better until it ultimately failed, he wasn’t in the right place to see you nor talk about you to others, murmuring your name when he slept and woke up with a start. He wasn’t as lost as Ghost was, didn’t shut the world around him down and closed in on himself, but he was following closely behind if he didn’t have the Task Force.

Rudy was the most human out of them, he felt more strongly but couldn’t cry. His mind was blank, the beat in his chest loud and erratic, yet his mind was silent, a ground of deathly quiet. He couldn’t do anything, work became hard, waking up exhausting, and taking care of himself harrowingly difficult. You’d scold him if you saw how he was behaving, how little care he had for himself —to near hunger and insanity. He hung onto your words, your confession, the three words you gave them as a parting gift, that’s what forced him out of his shell.

While the rest worked through their pain, to reach a stalemate together, none fell as hard as Ghost and König, both having a difficult childhood and a harder time following their enlistment. The lost themselves easily, becoming much more violent and deranged in their kills, ripping men in half and swallowing them whole, leaving all but a puddle of blood behind. The only thing that stopped them from ending their pain, to reaching out towards the knife that hung on the side of their thighs were your words, the handwritten words on your will and a message for everyone.

You wanted them to live, to be happy without you being there and that you’d be waiting for them on the other side until eternity. You were patient after all. At least a part of you hung from their necks, your ashes shared between the eight men and your items spread equally.

“I love you.”

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

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polakina · 1 year

Text

92 days

'scars do heal' chapter 5

pairing: captain price x reader

rating: mature

outline: ninety-two days trapped in a windowless cell should have made you crazy. but with the knowledge that the 141 could be out there looking for you was motivation enough to keep going.

warnings: canon violence, blood, torture

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist II 'scars do heal' masterlist

Pain. It was an interesting concept. To some, it was unbearable. To others, it was a release. The slashing of skin, or the tightness around a throat, or the snap one could feel in their ankle when slipping on ice. Everyone felt pain differently. It all depended on what sort of pain you wanted to feel. Did you want to feel a release from your trauma, from your troubles? Did you want to punish yourself for something out of your control? Or did you just want to feel something? Anything? When it was in your control, pain felt different. You knew your own limits, you knew when to stop, you knew when you should stop but you kept going until it exhausted you and the pain felt so little you needed to up the pressure to make sure you could still experience what it felt like.

But when it was out of your control…that was a different story. You couldn’t control how deep the knife pierced into your skin. You couldn’t stop the hand that beat your face and body until your skin felt like a giant painted bruise. You couldn’t tell yourself it would all be over after this last time.

Pain.

It was an interesting concept.

You would know. It was all you had felt for the past ninety-two days.

The same four walls. The same distinct three cracks that spanned from floor to ceiling on the wall with the door. The door was steel, dented, scratched. Fingernail scratches. People had been here before you. But the blood splatter on the floor in front of you, you don’t think it ended well for them.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you felt how cracked they were, bloodied from the men that repeatedly came in here like clockwise to beat you senseless. Your right cheek was painful to the touch, a small bump on your cheekbone had made itself present there a few days ago and hadn’t seemed to go down since. Your fingernails were bloody and chewed to within an inch of their existence from when you first came to this place. The clothes you wore, you didn’t know how you’d gotten them. They must have dressed you whilst you were unconscious, which made your skin crawl.

A pair of tan trousers and a white oversized shirt clung to your body, your feet adorned with boots. Rusted, scuffed black boots with your own blood dried on the soles from when you had paced the floor of the confines of your prison. There was no window, no way of knowing what time of the day it was. Or where you even were. You could hear nothing outside, no people or birds or traffic or anything. You were stuck. Lost. Wiped off the face of the earth.

Where were your team? Were they alive? Were they looking for you still? Did they even think you were alive? The thought of it brought so much stress to you, it was going to start making your hair fall out. God, you hoped they were alive, and that they’d gotten out safely.

But without Hassan. Fucking Hassan. You’d overheard the soldiers speaking while you were in the room when they’d first brought you here. An English soldier from the 141, they didn’t expect you to speak Persian. But you did, thankfully. You praised yourself internally for taking classes before being flown out here to join the 141.

They’d spoken of how Hassan had escaped the British soldiers, how he’d ordered for the sniper to be captured as leverage. You. They had you now.

You thought after a couple weeks at most that they would kill you. But here you were. Ninety-two days later, still in this fucking room. They’d tried everything to get you to reveal the location of Alejandro’s base. More recently they’d turned to hosing you with freezing water and leaving you to shiver and shake in a metal chair for hours. They were losing their touch. First, it was deep slashes to your legs and arms and face. Now water. They were running out of ideas. Eventually, they were just going to kill you and cut their losses. They would destroy every part of the world if they had to.

But then something changed. The guards grew lazy and started speaking more freely around you. They were angry, angry at the 141. Of course, they chose to speak when you were on the verge of passing out, but when they brought up your team’s name, it woke you right up.

Someone had found the missile. They had tracked it down and stole it. Of course, everyone assumed it was the 141. And Hassan wanted it back. You smiled to yourself, silently happy that your boys finally had leverage on Hassan and his men, if it was them who had taken it. But that’s when Hassan turned to desperate measures.

After ninety-two days of being dragged out of this room in cuffs on both your hands and feet, with a scratchy bag over your head, three guards marched in with only handcuffs and no bag in sight. They pinned you to the wall, cuffing you behind your back and dragging you to Hassan’s office.

Usually, they refused to let you see any part of this place. But now you saw everything, every turn that you’d memorised in your head in case you ever managed to escape, you saw all those turns with your eyes. You saw the bricked corridors and the stone floors. You saw the guards posted every few feet with fully loaded automatic weapons. You saw the interior of Hassan’s poorly decorated office. But more specifically you saw the video camera and metal chair positioned in front of it.

What the fuck did they have planned now?

“Sit her there,” Hassan instructed as he pointed to the chair, watching his men drag you there and forcefully shove you down onto the uncomfortable seat. They cuffed you to the chair, walking behind the camera and awaiting further instructions.

“Morning, Hassan. Or is it afternoon? I can’t really tell.” Your voice cracked with each word, your voice lost from the screams of pain from earlier in your imprisonment. Your most recent tortures only earned the guards silence. You were used to their rough methods now.

“You will shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you. Unless you wish for me to take your tongue?” Hassan didn’t even cast you a glance as he stood by his desk, his back to you.

“Oh come on, we’ve been hanging out for months now and I can’t even say hi? Shame. And just as I thought we were starting to get along,” you taunted. Your hope faded from you a long time ago, you cared for nothing at this point. Not even your own life.

“Remember your place, you filthy piece of shit,” Hassan gritted, turning to you and striding over towards you, the back of his hand connecting with your left cheek. You licked your lip, the tangy taste of iron hitting your tongue.

“Gotcha,” you muttered. You pulled your face away from him, your eyes focusing on the video camera once again. Hassan noticed.

“Oh yes, don’t you worry, little rookie. We’ve got something very special planned. A little message we’re going to send to your soldier friends,” Hassan laughed, nodding his head at the guards and they moved to position. One went to the computer in the corner, you didn’t really know what he was doing. The other two moved to stand behind you, one held a knife in his right hand, and the third soldier stood without a weapon.

“We’re ready, sir. We’ve connected to their monitors. When we switch the camera on, they’ll see everything,” the soldier from the computer turned around with a satisfied look on his face.

“Good,” Hassan said, walking up to the camera. “Turn it on.”

You watched as the red light flicked on, the camera feeding its picture to wherever the soldiers had hacked into. The 141 base, it had to be. You zoned out for a moment, Hassan’s voice droning out of focus in your ears. The boys were all about to see this. Were they going to watch your death? Watch your torture? Fuck, you realised what this all was for.

“Now,” Hassan walked back over to you, letting you be seen from behind him. “If you do not give me what I want, you will not like the consequences. I have your rookie,” he said as he gripped your jaw in his hand, forcefully turning your face towards the camera, but you couldn’t look at it. You looked to the floor instead. “If the missile is not returned to me by the end of the week, I will kill your soldier, and let the world view it as the pinnacle turning point where you were unable to save your people.”

Nodding to the soldier behind him, you felt a cold edge of a knife pressed against your throat, tipping your head up to the ceiling. “If you believe I am not serious, allow me to demonstrate the predicament you are left with.”

A shot fired and your head jolted forward, first out of fear, then out of pain. You let out a hoarse scream of agony as the bullet from Hassan’s gun fired into your thigh. You expected them to cut you, but your vision of the ceiling could not allow you to see Hassan pull his pistol from its holster and aim it at your leg.

The knife had cut into your throat when your head jolted, cutting a fine line into your skin and dripping blood down your chest. It hadn’t cut deep enough to sever anything important, but it still hurt like a bitch.

Your screams died down after a few moments, you gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw, your eyes piercing into the back of Hassan’s head. “If you do not believe I am serious, perhaps I’ll send her hand to your General as proof.”

“Oh, go die in a hole, Hassan,” you croaked, giggling slightly. He held his tongue with you, not wanting to let you get the better of him right now.

“So you get me my missile in the next four days. Or it won’t be her hand I send to your General,” he leaned closer to the camera. “It’ll be her fucking head.”

The camera cut out and you were dragged back to your cell, the shooting pain in your leg hitting you hard when they threw you to the floor. You looked at the damage to your thigh once the men had left, cringing as you looked at the blood pouring from your wound.

“Well, that’s definitely going to get infected,” you muttered to yourself, looking around for anything remotely clean to tie it up with. Of course, you found nothing. So you sat there a while longer, thinking of how the boys would have watched that footage by now. One thing was for certain though.

They knew you were alive.

Two days had passed since the video live streamed to the 141. You’d heard nothing from Hassan. Nobody had even come into your cell except from this young Iranian boy to give you a piece of bread twice a day for two consecutive days. He was new. You’d never seen him before. The boy was scared. Not of you though. Of Hassan. You suspected he’d been recruited against his will to join his army. Perhaps his village was raided, or he was forced with leverage against his family. But the look on his face, the fear in his eyes…he was the one person here you wouldn’t have wanted to hurt.

But you could use him without hurting him. You waited for the next time he came in. The plate in his shaky hand was laid on the floor next to your feet, and he went to leave.

“Hey,” you called out. The first time you’d tried to speak to him since your first encounter. He stopped in his tracks, turning to you slowly.

“Not supposed to talk to you,” he whispered, eyes darting to the open door fearfully. His English wasn’t bad, but he understood you. That was good enough.

“So shut the door,” you gestured to the steel door with your hand. “They’ll never know. I won’t tell anyone, kid.” So he closed the door quietly, turning to face you fully.

“What do you want?”

“What’s your name?” You avoided his question.

The boy paused before answering. “K-Kaveh.”

You smiled warmly up at the boy. “Do me a favour, Kaveh. Help me up, I haven’t been able to do it myself since getting shot by your boss.” You held out a hand and he was hesitant to take it, but he did so anyway. “Speaking of, why do you work for Hassan anyway?”

“He killed my family. Had no choice but to join the fight,” Kaveh admitted sadly. You frowned at the reason as he helped pull you off the ground.

“I’m sorry, Kaveh.”

“Not your fault.”

“I’m also sorry for doing this,” you sighed, before headbutting the young boy. He grunted and hit the floor with a thud, knocked out like a light. “Sorry, kid. Nothing personal.” You took the automatic weapon from his body, along with the knife strapped to his ankle and the keys in his pocket. Armouring yourself, you stood up straight, wincing at the pain firing through your body. But you powered through it, opening the door to the cell and locking it behind yourself. With one last look you checked the boy’s chest was still moving before closing the steel door.

Just as you were about to walk down the back corridor leading out of the building, you heard shots fired and men running around the building.

“Shit, really. Today of all days?” You rolled your eyes and continued down the corridor with your eyes on the look out for enemy soldiers. You had planned to do this quietly, your knife being the primary weapon of this escape. Apparently that plan was shot to shit.

There were three men on your first turn to freedom, you shot them down in seconds, not caring to see their bodies drop as you passed them. The troop of soldiers running by you halted your movements and you hid behind the archway leading to the courtyard, out of sight of any unwanted attention.

They shouted to one another in a mixture of English and Persian, commanding different routes and paths to take to gain an advantage of their uninvited visitors. They dispersed strategically, leaving a free path for you through the open courtyard. It was risky. Too many sighting points and far too out in the open to move through undetected. But it was your only shot. You saw the front door in front of you. You took the chance.

Running through as best you could with your injured leg, you made it to the other side of the courtyard before running straight into an Iranian soldier.

“You shouldn’t be out of your cell,” he spat before pointing his gun at you. You reacted quickly, dodging the first shot aimed for your head and kicking him square in the chest with your good leg. He stumbled, giving you an opportunity. Pulling the knife from your belt loop, you drove it through his neck, hearing his scream ringing in your ears and watching the life drain from his brown eyes as he died.

You froze for a second. He was the first man you’d killed up close and personal. Usually, you shot them from afar, but this felt different. This felt so much worse. Blinking back into reality, you pulled the knife from his neck, seeing the blood spurt out onto your arm and blade, so you wiped it on your pants and continued, wanting to get as far away as possible.

You didn’t really know where you would go. You didn’t even know where you were, let alone how you were going to get back to Las Almas. But that was a problem for later. Your problem for now was to get out alive.

Finally, you made it to the front door, but four guards burst their way through, noticing you immediately and taking action. One kicked the gun from your hands and the others lunged for you. You sidestepped the men, kicking the closest to you back to the ground as he tried to get up. The man still standing aimed his gun at you, but a shot was fired from your left and went straight into his hand, allowing you to stab him right as the soldier closest to you grabbed your injured leg, pulling you to the ground.

Once down, he climbed on top of you, whilst the other guards dealt with the firing shots in their direction. His hands wrapped around your throat, and you started seeing stars before you managed to dig your thumbs into his eyes, pushing him away. You rolled the two of you over, straddling his waist and stabbing him through the chest four times, knowing he was dead from the second, but unable to stop yourself. That was, until, you heard footsteps in front of you.

Within seconds, you grabbed the guard’s gun beside you and held it up at the person before you. Just as you were about to pull the trigger, you caught sight of his face, and you removed your finger from the trigger entirely.

“Price?” You whispered, convinced that you were hallucinating from all the fresh air you’d been getting. It was making you delusional.

“Holy shit, rookie,” he breathed, relief flooding his body. He lowered his own weapon and you lowered yours. “You’re still alive.” He rushed over, helping you to your feet and without thinking, wrapped his arms around you. “I knew you weren’t fuckin’ dead.”

You fell into his embrace, your arms around his neck, a small part of you using him to keep the weight off your leg. “Nope, still alive and kicking, Captain.”

Another shot fired close by and drew the two of you apart. Price called in on his radio. “I found our rookie.” He smiled at you. “Bringing her back to the helo now.”

You heard the boys collectively respond on comms, but you didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. But you followed Price as he led you out of the door. “What about Hassan?” You asked, adjusting the weapon in your arms, limping after your Captain. Your head started to go a little fuzzy, but you shook it off.

“They got him. We got a second helo so Vargas and Parra are staying with him. The rest of the guys are meeting us now.”

“And the missile?”

Price sighed, pausing before speaking. “We don’t have it. Never did. Someone else must have gotten to it first,” he admitted. Shit. This mission was certainly far from over.

“Okay, so we…we gotta…” you trailed off, stumbling a little with your steps. Your head grew foggy, your vision starting to blur. Price turned and eyes widened.

“Shit, rookie,” he said worryingly. “I got you, love.” That was the last thing you heard before you passed out, feeling Price’s arms catch you as you fell.

A dark green ceiling was the first thing you saw when you came to. Your vision cleared up and you could hear the boys talking indistinctly around you.

“Guys, I think i got the perfect call sign.”

“Seriously, Soap? You thought of one now ?” You heard Ghost chuckle, practically feeling him roll his eyes at the Scot.

“Now’s the perfect time! Think about it. She basically rose from the dead, right? Phoenix is the perfect name for that. Obviously Nix for short, but it’s such a good call sign.”

“Phoenix?” You heard Price question. From the direction of his voice, he was by your right side, close to your head. “Nix I can get on board with. Phoenix is a bit on the nose.”

You rolled your head to the side to see Soap, still a little fuzzy from waking up. “But I don’t even support the Knicks, man,” you complained in your drugged state, watching all the boys turning to you with wide eyes and smiles. They laughed at your input and sat down, relieved that you were okay.

“No taking it back, Nix. you got your call sign after all,” Soap smiled, patting your arm gently, not wanting to hurt you.

“Good to have you back,” Ghost nodded, his eyes squinted slightly as though he was smiling. You’d like to believe he was. “How you feeling?”

“Like I got shot. But other than that, pretty fucking good,” you nodded back at him, moving to sit up. Soap hed out his arms as though to help you, and you slapped them away gently. “Calm down, Soap, I’m not that bloody delicate. I’m fine.” You pushed yourself into an almost sitting position against the medical bed, able to see everyone clearly now. They all still looked a little worried, it was al evident in their eyes. “Guys, seriously. I’m okay.”

“We saw the video feed,” Vargas said solemnly. “We know you’re not.”

You inhaled deeply. “Yeah, I know. But I’ll be fine. Everyone gets a little fucked about in war, right? I’ll be on my feet in no time.”

“No, you won’t,” one of the medics appeared with a clipboard, looking at you through large round glasses. “You shouldn’t be on your feet for a few weeks at least. Not with that leg. You’re lucky we didn’t have to take it off.”

“Thanks Doc, but we’ve not finished our mission yet. And I’m not sitting around while they’re out there,” you said confidently, not wanting to spend another moment in this bed.

“Over my dead body you’re getting out of here before I discharge you.” And with that, she walked away.

“Well, she’s a ball of fun,” Gaz joked, and you all chuckled along with him. “But seriously, Nix. You should probably rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.” You moved your legs tentatively to get out of the medical bed.

“You’re resting now.” Price pushed you back down against the pillow, moving your legs back onto the bed. “At least for tonight.”

The boys stayed a little longer, before you managed to convince them to go get some sleep themselves. They dispersed one by one until it was only Price left at your bed side. “I’m glad to have you back in one piece, love. I knew they couldn’t get rid of you that easily.”

You smiled at your Captain. “What can I say, I learned from the best.” He smiled back at you before yawning slightly. “But you should definitely get some sleep. When was the last time you actually slept? You look like shit.”

He feigned offence, hand on his chest for added effect. “First of all, I’m you’re superior officer. Secondly, if you want to say that I look like shit, maybe look in the mirror first.”

You laughed, and he huffed a chuckle with you. “Wow, you’re not holding back tonight. But seriously, please go get some sleep, you look as though you haven’t slept in months.”

He looked at the ground. “Oh, you’ve no idea,” he whispered to himself before pushing himself out of the chair. “Alright, love. I’ll get some sleep. But you do too. You’ve been through a lot. And I need you to get better as soon as possible so we can finish what we started, yeah?”

You nodded, saluting him jokingly. “Yes, Captain.” He smiled down at you, his hand moving to your cheek, his thumb brushing over one of the deep scars inflicted on you by Hassan’s men. He hovered there for a moment before removing his hand, and you’d almost wished he hadn’t.

“Goodnight, love.”

“Night, Price,” you called after him as he walked away. Sleep came to you pretty quickly after that.

Price awoke with a fresher feeling the next morning. They had Hassan in their holding cell, and you safely back on base. He showered quickly, anxious to go and check on you in the medical bay. Dressing himself, he passed the food hall where his men were sitting and headed to the medical bay. Making it to your bed, he looked to find you weren’t there. With a confused look on his face, he looked around, not seeing you anywhere in the tent.

“The fuck?” He muttered as he exited out the back of the tent and looked around once more. He sighed when he saw you sitting on a bench along the fence line. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

You looked over, cigarette between your lips, eyes like a deer in headlights. “Getting some sun. You have no idea what three months in a windowless cell can do to someone’s vitamin D.”

He shook his head, smiling, and sat down beside you. Pulling a cigarette from his pack, he watched you light your own lighter in front of him and he held his hand up against it to shield it from the wind. His hand pressed against yours, lighting the cigarette quickly. It took him back to the first time ever really had a conversation with you. On the hood of the truck in your first couple of months on the team.

“So, feeling better?”

“Much actually,” you said truthfully. It was the first night’s sleep you’d gotten in months. Your first night without intense nightmares, anyway. You only had little ones. Nothing as bad as being locked in Hassan’s compound. “My leg doesn’t hurt as bad, I can walk on it now which is great. Doc said my scars are healing, but I’ll have them forever. That’s less than ideal but it’s better than being dead.”

“That’s good news, rook.”

“Woah, Captain,” you looked over with a smile on your face. Price looked at you suspiciously, a “what?” expression on his face. “Didn’t you hear? It’s Phoenix now. I got myself a proper call sign.”

Price just laughed. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. Sorry Nix, gonna have to get used to that. But you’ll always be Rook to me.”

“Well, what if you get a new rookie?” You inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

“Eh, I don’t want another rookie. One’s bad enough, you know? Don’t need a whole flock of them running around,” he joked.

“Excuse me, I’m a perfect rookie, thank you very much,” you chuckled, nudging his shoulder. You took another drag of your cigarette, inhaling deeply.

“Well, that’s true. You have been my favourite rookie to date. You should have seen Soap and Gaz when they first started out,” Price thought back. “Felt like I was a dad of two idiot sons.” You couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Price running around after those two, tying up any loose ends they’d missed. They were definitely a handful, even now.

The two of you sat there for a while longer, catching up on what you’d missed since being gone. It was nice to finally be back. Even with all the tests the doctors were making you take, the constant poking and prodding. It was all worth it to be back.

But soon you’d have to face the music and see Hassan. And fuck, you wanted to make that man bleed.

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