The Ghost of Task Force 141 [Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader]

Prey

Once the Jeep came to a stop, you opened the door and hopped down, your feet crunching on the gravel below. Your teeth chatter as you realize just how cold it is, you look over to the body and sigh. 

You lugged the deadweight out of the Jeep, along with the assistance of Soap, you two quickly got her onto the couch. With her hands still tied and her eyes still blindfolded, you weren't too concerned about her somehow getting free. Though, from how she was reacting when you were questioning her in the pub, it was safe to say her abilities were something to be at least slightly concerned. 

You exhaled another exasperated sigh, your lungs were still tight from intaking the cold air from outside as you warmed your hands by the, now, blazing fire. 

Ghost walked in the door soon after locking up the Jeep, sharply shutting the door behind him. The loud noise had you looking in the direction of the door, turning away from the fire. 

You gave him a quick glance before focusing on Soap. 

Soap was in the kitchen, preparing another warm cup of coffee for you and him. The smell lured you into the kitchen, as you walked, boots thumping against the floor. 

He glanced over to you, acknowledging your presence before turning back to the coffee pot, which was now sizzling as it warmed and boiled. 

"What a night," Soap chuckled as he leaned himself back onto the counter, gripping the sides of the counter, as he relaxed into the cold tile. 

You scoffed, "You said it.. Wasn't expecting an assassin."

He nodded, agreeing with the statement. 

Shepherd was most likely already aware of your prescence, as it was quite blatantly clear by now. 

You stepped around Soap and pressed the old button in the pantry. After a few shifts and clicks of the mechanism, the door slid open. You hastily made your way down the steps, shivering a bit as you still hadn't changed out of the ripped red dress. 

After logging onto your laptop, you immediately clicked over to the terminal where you were in almost constant communication with Price. 

Ghost stepped down from the stairs, quietly padding over to you. He leans against one of the walls, watching as you typed away. His arms were crossed as his eyes flicked back and forth from your hands to your body. 

You looked up, meeting his eyes before quickly looking back down and focusing on what you were doing.  

"You cold?"

A smile tugged at your lips as you continued to work on getting Price on the line. 

"Most definitely."

Ghost pushed off of the wall, arms still crossed. "I'll brief Price. Go on and get changed."

You meet his eyes again as you stepped away from the laptop, you gesture to the laptop, "What a gentleman. Have fun."

As soon as you turned around, he stepped in front of the screen, it illuminated every indent engrained in his mask. 

He chuckled a bit, and you made your way upstairs. 

Soap already had his cup of coffee, warming his hands through his gloves. His attention now grabbed; he flicked his eyes down at your dress. 

"Still a shame," he tsked, and you once again rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. 

You stepped out of the kitchen, giving a quick glance to the unconscious body still flopped over on the couch, before moving to the bedroom. 

After a bit of ruffling through your duffel bag, you pulled out your typical garments. 

You make haste, pulling on your clothes as you rubbed your hands together, attempting to conserve at least a bit of heat. Decidedly, you kept your knives, still strapped to your legs, though you moved them down to your claves for easier access. 

As soon as you leave the room, your eyes once again wander to the body on the couch. It should be about time for them to start regaining consciousness.  

Soap comes into the room, abandoning his cup on the kitchen counter and looking to where your eyes are focused on. He scans over the figure, "Should be about time we move them, hm?", you pipe up. 

He nods, keeping his eyes on them a moment longer before breaking away. You do the same. He exhales a sigh, running his hand over his hand before resting it at the back of his neck. 

"You grab them, I'll get a chair."

Immediately he walks over to the figure, doing as you'd said. You brush past him, grabbing an old wooden chair and lugging it into the bedroom. 

Soap follows behind, setting them down on the chair, before leaving and returning with some more rope. Like second nature to him, he ties their legs to the chair's along with their arms. 

You watch as he gets up from his kneeling position and crosses his arms as he turns to you. You raise an eyebrow as he speaks, "Not sure if you'll want to be in the room once Ghost does the interrogation."

You cock your head a bit, glancing at the deadweight before returning to Soaps' gaze. His brow is slightly furrowed and his hand resting onto of his arm is clenched, pressing onto his bicep. 

"Do I even want to ask?"

"Trust me on this one, Splinter," he unfurls his arms, breaking eye contact. 

You nod and begin to exit the room. Ghost appears in the doorway, and you step aside as he strides past. 

You turn around just as you step over the threshold into the living room, "Execute authority?"

"Affirmative," Ghost doesn't turn around, but from his tone of voice, you knew it was serious. 

You shut the door behind you, and the interrogation begins. 

You scrunch your eyes every single time you hear any cry of pain. Torture wasn't something you particularly enjoyed. Though that depended on the recipient and what exactly they'd done. 

It didn't take too long for Ghost to emerge, blood splattering his shirt and mask. A sight that was becoming relatively familiar as of recent. 

"Got the info," he relayed before striding past the couch you were sat upon. Most likely headed to clean off all of the ruby red decor he had all over himself. 

Soap comes out of the room almost immediately afterwards, closing the door behind him. He grabbed his coffee before settling into his usual seat. 

Ghost comes rushing into the living room, startling you out of your seat. In a swift movement, he grabs Soaps' coffee and pours it over the fire, which was on its way out already. 

"Ey-"

"Shh."

Ghost is frozen in place, still in front of the fireplace as he cocks his head towards the living room window. 

Barely louder than a wisp of wind he whispers, "Enemies. About 12, possibly more."

You immediately crouch, being careful not to make a sound. You brace your back against the couch as Soap slides out of his seat, and squats down. 

Not a sound could be heard. Until a few crunches of boots in the gravel alert you to exactly where they are. 

You curse yourself for leaving your handgun in the bedroom. Knives would have to do. 

As slow as you could, you pushed up your right pant leg, immediately grasping one of the knives. 

You unsheathed it, and gripped the knife so the tip faced the ground. Your eyes were wide as you searched around the now incredibly dark cottage, scanning for any other potential weapons or threats. 

It seems the little deadweight had friends.