Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

FOUR

It was easy to fall into the routine of the 141. 

It seemed that every day, you would wake up, cook breakfast for everyone. 

Ghost would come down shortly after and go for his run. You'd have his plate ready for when he got back, either placing it outside his room, or handing it to him as he barged through the door. 

He still ate alone, never once joining you. 

After breakfast, either Price, Alex, or Gaz would help you to clean up, and then it was showers all round and then practise, practise, practise. Whether that be targets, stealth, hand-to-hand combat, or anything else Laswell threw at you.

You didn't mind this, though, being desperate for an outlet for yourpent up frustrations that were building. You'd been constantly sparring, to thepoint you dripped in sweat, pushing yourself to new limits.

Over the two weeks you'd been there so far, you and Ghost had barely shared 50 words. 

He only ever spoke to you if necessary, or in the mornings, when you made every effort to rile him up with stupid, argumentative comments and purposefully 'not being aware of your surroundings'. 

You meant it as harmless banter, but he very rarely bit back at you, constantly keeping a cool head despite you trying to wind him up. 

Which was strange, given how you now found yourself underneath him in the boxing ring while the rest of the team stood watching.

You wiped the sweat from your brow with your wrapped hands, sparring with the team was not what you expected it to be. These were the best of the best, and you'd managed to take them all down. 

Gaz had folded with one hit, and Alex flat-out refused to even get in the ring with you.

"Fuck off, Price, I'm not coming in there with you."

"Al, come on! It'll be fine!"

"No."

"But I need the practise! Please?" you spoke sweetly, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

"No! Last time I got in there with you, you broke my arm! IN THREE PLACES!"

"It was an accident! Might I remind you that you are the one that trained me!"

After hearing that story, Rudy also refused to participate. 

Captain Price knew better than to pass up an opportunity to hand his little sister's arse to her, but it was you who did the handing. He had barely been in the ring five minutes before he was on his back, submitting to defeat. 

Alejandro jumped in next, and to be fair, he gave you a good run, but his Latino cockiness got the better of him, and just when he thought you were done, you swiped his legs from underneath him, bending his arm back.

"¡Oye, me rindo, me rindo! (Hey, I yield, I yield!)"

"No me subestimes, Alejandro.(Don't underestimate me.)" You smiled, releasing him, "anyone else?"

Soap rubbed his hands together, making some unruly comment to Gaz and Rudy about finally getting you under him, and stepped into the ring.

"I gotta warn ya, sergeant, I'm no easy win."

"That I can believe, L.T." he smirked.

You threw the first punch, and were surprised by how well he took it, and soon enough, the two of you were giving an incredible sparring performance. You had Price and Alex in one corner cheering you on, while those whose egos you'd bruised rooted for Soap.