Dead Man's Deed (Ghost x reader x Soap)

No.3 Target (un)acquired

The quiet was as unnatural as it was welcome. In the distance, you heard the faintest gunshots as you blinked a few times to try remembering where you were and what you were doing.

'That's right... our mission was to capture Hassan.' You thought to yourself as you watched everything play in slow motion. You watched a shadow traverse across the walls of the interior, halting smack dab in the center.

You looked down at the two men who were laying face down in front of you. Bullet wounds were in the back of their heads, the sight so familiar to you that you didn't even have the sensitivity to feel sick.

That copper smell that used to make you gag was almost like a necessity now with your line of work. If you didn't smell it, you weren't doing it right.

Your bulletproof vest also laid on the ground, soaked with blood that wasn't yours and full of attempted holes. The two men that laid in front of you had their rifles close in hand from when they tried shooting you.

One of them was fully inside while the other's legs were halfway out the shed's door. Unfortunately when they'd shot you, they'd shot your comms. You hadn't been able to communicate with any of your comrades for the past two minutes, and it made you restless.

And so you laid silently against the wall of the shack, covered in blood as you wore only a tank top and your half-shredded cargo pants. You held the gun gently in your hands as the familiar feeling of the trigger laid perfectly against your pointer finger.

You were tempted to walk out of the shed and look for your group, but with your situation, walking wasn't exactly an option.

'No, they promised they'd come back for me. Trust them. Trust that they'll come.' You mentally voiced as you looked up at the ceiling. It was tattered and only partially functional due to the holes in the surface.

You heard yelling before the shed door was fully opened.

It was Soap, looking down at you with blood over your face and a complete mess. He seemed relieved however, and picked you up bridal-style while bringing you to the truck.

You stayed silent as you merely rested your head against the edge of his vest. You stared intently at the British flag patch on the front and even ran your available finger over it to feel the rough texture.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on Soap's legs as he sat in the back of the truck. Between him and Ghost sat the hostage that you'd been hunting for days: Hassan Zyani.

You smiled at the sight of his hands tied together and Ghost's death glare set on him.

"You three did it... you did it.." You whispered as your grip on your handgun loosened out of relief. Soap noticed this, taking it from your hands and putting it back into your holster.

"That's right, we did. All of us." Soap spoke as he shifted slightly so that you'd both be in a more comfortable position.

"Sorry to make you sit in my lap like this. If there were more seats, I woulda' given you a whole row because of your leg." He apologized, but you merely shook your head as your eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier from the last of your adrenaline leaving.

                                              ༒

A gentle rocking motion caused you to open your eyes, blinking as your vision adjusted to its surroundings. Things were dark, a pale yellow light at the front of the car as you realized you were the only person inside the vehicle.

Moving around, you noticed a jacket on top of you, serving as a blanket of sorts. It smelled of smoke and greenery, it's nature-like musk lingering in the air as you sat up.