Paralyzer- Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

One shot

"Perimeter is clear!"

Ghost's voice comes in crisp over the com and you smile proudly to yourself. Clicking your side of the com open, you shoot back, "Roger that, big man. I’ll meet you at your location.”

The mission had gone well, all things considered. Not a single thing had gone astray, which you were still suspicious about, but you had a little bit more faith now that it was almost over. All that was left was one final sweep of the tiny town, an inventory of drug, weapon, and money caches, and then a two day hike back to the pick up location and you were in the clear.

You see him in the window as you slowly make your way to the main building; it looked like, at some point years ago, it had been a small but proud city hall until the now dead drug lord moved in and made it a laboratory. Still, even though it was starting to crumble from lack of care, and reeked of chemicals, it still towered over the blocks of shacks the residents once called home.

As you open the door to the hall, you just thank whatever being above that no civilians seemed to be lingering around by the time you and Ghost showed up. No children or elderly or mothers, just men and women with hardened faces and armed to the teeth. You suppose, though, that plenty of those people could have been parents. Brothers and sisters who got caught up in the wrong line of work, uncles and aunts who had no choice but to do this job to support their families.

You're lost in thought just long enough to not notice the shadow gliding over the wall until it's almost too late. The crunch of a boot on glass makes you twist on your heel, gun raised, but you're just not prepared enough for the attack. The person, an older man, has a gun to your face; the barrel is an inch from kissing the space between your brows.

“Quiet,” he hisses at you- he’s got an accent, but not a regional one from the area, vaguely European which has you thinking that this operation you busted might have drawn from bigger pools than anyone thought. “You move, I blow your fucking brains out, child. Hands up.”

Scowling, you let go of your gun so that it swings against your belly and raise your hands, palms to the stranger, up to the sky. “Take it easy,” you tell him coldly.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, pushing the cold metal of his gun into your forehead. “You went and fucked everything up, princess. You and that giant friend of yours. Now my operation is in the fucking ground, six feet under… You owe me. A life for a life.”

His finger slips to the trigger and you begin to tighten as you prepare to react, but something snatches the man’s hand and yanks it to the ceiling just as the gun goes off. Your hands move for your gun and you take a step back, rifle pointed at the man’s stomach. Ghost is towering over the man and holding onto his wrist in a bone crushing grasp; with his free hand, he has a knife buried in the now gasping man’s throat. Blood spills from the wound and, when Ghost rips the weapon from his flesh, it gushes wildly.

Gritting your teeth, you take another step back and allow your gun to lower. The man clamps a hand over the wound like a vice, fingers tightened around his skin hard enough to leave bruises against his pale skin. A look of agony and anger morphs his face, twisting his features almost inhumanly. He takes a step towards you but falls into a pile of wrapped bundles that fill the building from floor to ceiling.

You move towards him, ready to fire, but he flips himself over. He's got one of the bundles in his hands and it looks heavy. You ready your weapon but he's just a whisker faster than you. He flings it at your face, making the package explode into a fine powder and blinding you. Stumbling back as you scream out a curse, the backs of your feet hit something and sends you to the floor as you cup your hands over your face and scream. The unknown powder clings to the inside of your eyes and sticks to your mouth like corn starch and burns like lava.