Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

ONE

Staring out of the window in the HUM-V, you watched as the mountains rolled away, only to be replaced by miles and miles of desert and wilderness.

"(Y/N), you copy?"

"Huh?"

"I said, are you ready to meet your new team? We'll be there in the next ten minutes."

You looked at the woman in front of you, now.

Kate Laswell, your handler for the US Special Operations unit. You liked her, she always seemed to look out for you like a mother would.

"Uh, I guess."

"What's wrong, (Y/N)? I know you too well to know you're not usually quiet like this. Where's that mouth of yours?"

You smiled a little, suppressing a laugh. You did have quite the attitude, "Just more people to get to know and potentially lose. Would rather keep to myself."

"It won't happen again, I won't let it." she said, reaching over to place a hand over yours. "Besides, I think you may feel a little differently about these guys."

Raising your brow, you looked at her quizzically, but she shook her head, offering you another smile before going back to the tablet in her hand. You looked down at your fingers, fiddling with a loose string on your belt.

It was strange, not being decked out in your entire gear.

You never thought you'd say it, but you missed the feeling of the heavy vest. All you had on now was a fitted black t-shirt, tucked neatly into some dark grey cargo pants. Heavy combat boots were laced tightly on your feet.

You had a small pistol strapped to your hip, and a couple of throwing knives hidden around your body, but everything else was packed tightly into your duffel in the back.

Your mask sat on your lap; you never went outside without it.

It was your protection out in the field; if enemies never saw your face fully, they'd never be able to find you, or your family.

When you put it on, you were no longer (Y/N) Price; you were Reaper, lieutenant of the US Special Ops.

You'd heard of people wearing masks to hide their identity, and you never really thought much of it. Not like what you'd heard about the other infamous lieutenant of the SAS.

Ghost.

He was such a mystery that even his own team weren't to know his actual name. You didn't agree with that, though. How could you possibly work with people and trust them with your life, and have them trust you with theirs in return, when you wouldn't let them see your face? Or even know your name?

That's why your mask wasn't full like you'd heard his was. Yours sat neatly, covering your mouth and nose.

But then again, nothing you'd heard about Ghost was good - all of it could be boiled down to one simple phrase: avoid at all costs.

Right on time, the vehicle came soundlessly to a halt, pulling you back to reality. You'd been so deep in thought, that you hadn't even noticed that you'd gone from the desert and into a small base.

There were few buildings; a larger hangar, several old shipping containers, a small medical wing, a smaller hangar (probably the tactical room) and another more homely looking place.

"Right, we're here. Let's go, honey." Laswell said, patting your thigh as she exited the vehicle past you.

"Here we go." You whispered to yourself.

Slipping on your mask, you exited the HUM-V. Grunting as you stepped down, you slammed the door shut as the desert evening breeze whipped your hair around your face.