Call of duty imagines

Ghost [take care of me please]

*mentions self harm*

"Have you lost your fucking mind?"

Central intelligence director Alexander King roared through the video call, watching your bloodied figure before him. Beside you stood Price who held a worried look on his face.

He had never known director King to have been any more angry than just being frustrated, but the stunt that you had pulled out in the field had the man on blast. Kings face scrunched in disbelief as veins popped out the temple of his forehead.

"You risked everyone's life out there Artemis, you led them astray and now men are dead because of you, if you had just stuck to the mission instead of letting your emotions get the best of you, my men wouldn't be dead."

You scoffed feeling the disbelief in his accusations.
"I didn't lead anyone anywhere, I was out in a mission sent by your commanding officer and I did my part, I had nothing to do with that ambush, so don't you dare try and blame it on me." King crossed his arms and leaned further toward the camera, his face taking up the reminder of the screen.

"You are off duty till further notice."

"I don't take orders form you, or anyone."

"I don't give a damn (y/n) you fucked up and now your being punished, now get the hell out my face before come down there and kill you myself."

He shut off the call leaving you to the dark room pondering in your own thoughts. "He used my name, no one uses my name, she's dead." You spoke out to Price whom you could sense was still there.

"I'm sorry Artemis." You had trusted king and that he'd never refer to your name, she died years ago along with everything she owned and loved, (y/n) no longer existed. "He's just upset." That was all he could say, he was in no position to try and convince King otherwise, yet he wish he could. "Try and get some rest, I'll have someone watch over your for the time being."

You felt almost betrayed, had you stayed back and help fight rather than do the mission your were sent to do then maybe you wouldn't be in this predicament, maybe you'd be half way to Morocco taking down the man who killed your family, but there were priorities and clearly you weren't one of them.

"You've worked hard Captain."

Your dreary eyes locked with the eyes of the Brit lieutenant, his darkened eyes covered by the heavy makeup and skull mask he wore, sworn to never take off.

"Piss off, I don't need your criticism right now." You shoved past him feeling him stare at your back as you walked down the hall to wash up.

It angered you to think that King would put you off duty, but you belonged to no one but him, you had no affiliation, not nationality, no place to call home, just a mission and the fated death that waited for you after missions were resolved.

Though King meant well, he wanted nothing more than for you to do his dirty work, you fought to keep the world clean and to keep the shadows from growing darker.

There was no place for you on this earth. If you were to drop dead King would have another to replace you, he held his values at the top, but you were only right below it. "Fuck this place." Tossing aside the now damp towel you could felt nothing but frustration. You kicked over an empty bottle, once filled with the contents that fed your alcoholism, the shattering followed by a chorus of bottles somehow fed the anger within you.