The Crow & The Ghost: A Dystopian AU Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Chapter Two: An Inspection

        Some twelve hours later, you lay on your couch in your studio apartment a few blocks away from Headquarters. Your cat, Circe, is sprawled across your shoulders as you turn on the latest episode of the mindless reality dating show you pretend that you don't love. Circe purrs and it's almost like a massage on your back.
        Before the episode can really begin, your phone vibrates with an incoming text message from 'Kieran Corr is my best friend'. You crack a smile as you pick up the phone with one hand and use your thumb to unlock it.
        A text message thread with Kieran appears, the most recent message reading "did you think i wouldn't find out?". The message before that, which you had forgotten to reply to, was from noontime and read "why do they bother serving fish tacos for lunch. it's like they want the city to be overrun with undead". You send a reply back and Kieran immediately starts typing, and you settle in for a rapid fire conversation.

YOU: i had hoped i had imagined it
KIERAN: why you and ghost??? why not us?? i'm a bit offended actually
YOU: maybe because riley is intimidating you're... you?
KIERAN: bitch
KIERAN: what did moorehouse say exactly?

        You think back to earlier in the day, shortly after your conversation with Soap and Riley. You immediately went to General Moorehouse's office—a sprawling room just one floor below the Atrium. The Private stationed at Moorehouse's door immediately opens it for you, and that's how you know this is real, that Riley wasn't bullshitting.
        And Moorehouse knew you'd be pissed.
        You walk into the office, your black combat boots nearly silent on the mahogany floor. Moorehouse's office is large, open, and somewhat antique, with a majority of the furniture being old and handmade from centuries past. The entire back wall is a window looking out over the sprawling city.
        Somewhere down there is Vampire Alley, somewhere down there is Meara. You really do not want to see her again, not like this.
General Amelia Moorehouse, Lead Commander of the Defense, is sitting at her desk with her head angled towards some papers resting in front of her. She's in her mid-50s, with red hair that is shocked through with strands of white. She has narrow lips and a long nose, and her blue eyes are more calculating than Soap's.
        "I knew you'd be mad, so don't start with an attitude," Moorehouse drawls, not looking up. "Just sit for a second."
        "I'm not mad," You say quietly, though you totally are. "Though I do hate when orders from you don't come from you."
        You wouldn't speak this boldly with someone else. But Moorehouse took you under her wing during your first voluntary year—you were the only female to stay on after the mandatory year—and she had become more of a mother figure in these last few years than your own mom. You wouldn't dare chide Moorehouse in front of others, but when you were alone she tolerated freer speech.
        Moorehouse sighs and looks up. Her eyes dart to the chair in front her desk before landing back on you. You stand there stubbornly.         Her eyes dart to the chair again, and one eyebrow lifts. You sigh and sit down.
        "I was going to call you in," She says, looking back at her papers. "I actually sent one of my Privates for you, and they instead found Private Bosh in your office reporting that you were already meeting with Captain MacTavish."
        "I guess John thinks he runs things around here now, doesn't he?" You say, using Soap's first name.
        "That'll be dealt with." Moorehouse says quietly, unperturbed. She looks at you again, her blue eyes bright. "And you will do as you're told, regardless of whether it came from my mouth first."
        "Can I ask: why me? Why Riley? Why this?"
        Moorehouse shrugs. "You can ask, but it doesn't mean I'll answer. There's some things that even a Lieutenant does not need to be privy to."
        You make a face of incredulity, your palms upturned and your fingers splayed. "I think I should know what my mission is if I'm going to be executing it."
        "Your mission," Moorehouse says, her expression almost annoyed, "is to look into Meara O'Sullivan. Get answers as to why she murdered Maria Mortissmo and took over Vampire Alley, and why there's a sudden need for drastic change down there. I need to know if there's plans for a civil war. Do not contact Meara directly."
        "Oh?" This last bit surprises you.
        "I know that you knew her," Moorehouse concedes. "And that may help figure out motives, locations, so on. But she can't know we're digging into her. It might make her... volatile."
        You sit quietly for a moment, thinking over this new information before you speak. "So... if you think I have more starting intel than anyone else, why does Riley need to be partnered with me? Why not Kieran?" You work with Kieran on everything, and you do well together. Kieran was your first friend at the Defense, and he remains your truest.
        "Kieran Corr needs to learn some independence," Moorehouse says. "And Ghost has a specific skillset that Kieran does not possess that will be... helpful for this mission."
        You don't want to consider what that skillset is. Not yet.
        You shift in your seat, your gun digging into your back. "Is there a timeline for this?"
        Moorehouse stares at you for a second, her gaze scrutinizing, before she suddenly looks back at her papers. "You may discuss that with Lieutenant Riley. We don't often do missions like this, so I'm not entirely sure what's reasonable. We can check back in two weeks on your progress."
        That much was true. The Defense was just that, defensive, protection for the humans of the city. It wasn't often that investigative work was done—the Undead didn't have much to investigate. They either went batshit crazy and needed to be put down, or they kept to themselves. You can't think of a singular time that the Undead attempted any sort of politicking, unionizing, or warfare.
        "All right," You say. You know that even though you're irritated and confused, there's no point in arguing. When Moorehouse asks for something, then it will be done. The more you bitch, the worse she gets.
        Moorehouse looks at you once more and gives you a small smile. "You'll do well at this, I think, Lieutenant Crow. You're crafty and you care about this city."
        You smile back at her as you stand, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "That's kind of you, General, thank you."
        "And," Moorehouse suddenly gets a smile you've never seen from her before. It looks conspiratorial. "I think you can show Lieutenant Riley a good time. God knows he needs it."
        You feel a pit form in your stomach. What the fuck did that mean? "General?"
        The conspiratorial smile stays, but her eyes have left you for good. "Dismissed."