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

Haunted

Drifting in and out of sleep, Ghost tossed and turned. He was never one to sleep long. Nor dream. Ghost did, eventually. 

Dreams were never his specialty. Tonight, they wouldn't be in his favor either. 

As though it were a constant reminder, Ghost dreamt of the mission you had tended to him on. 

Rain shuddered from the dark grey skies, dampening with it everything exposed to its elements. It rolled down the residential area's streets, layering it with a fine slick. 

141 had been crouched, awaiting the combatants, as water painted everything around them. Guns were clutched tightly as the minutes passed, ticking on the anxiousness. 

Ghost was observant, but it hadn't been enough that night. 

Within an instant, gunfire exploded from behind them. Ghost went into a trance, quickly tucking himself onto the other side of his hiding place, facing the oncoming enemies. 

He was tucked by a residential house, hidden behind a cement wall bordering the property. The wall was cracked, with paint chipping off of the sides. It would have to do for now.  

Judging from the bullets, they were close. Too close for comfort. 

Several casualty reports sprung out over the comms as Soap quickly ordered everyone to retreat to a safer spot. 

It had been a frenzy, and a potentially fatal mistake. 

Ghost's heart thudded in his chest, as he raised his gun, supporting it with his shoulder, and exhaled. He lined up his shot, following the spurts of light, painted green due to his night vision, that always accompanied a gunshot, he returned the favor. 

Quick pulls of the trigger and several combatants were out, their bodies flopping, discarding their guns. 

Taking mental note of how much he had left in his magazine, Ghost darted behind another house, putting distance between himself and the troop behind him. 

Soap wasn't too far ahead, helping several injured members along. 

With his left hand, Ghost pressed his comms, "Where we heading to, Johnny?". His voice was gruff, lowered as to not attract any unwanted attention to himself and where he was hidden. 

After a few moments, Soap responded, "Not too far, just keep goin' L.T.", Soap grunted as he lugged along the man beside him. 

Ghost continued on his way, dodging around civilian houses in an effort to keep up with the rest of 141. Boots splashed down on the muddy terrain, coating everyone with a significant amount of grime. 

Ghost slid behind another exterior fence wall and peeked the end of his sniper around the corner.

He clutched his gun before bringing the back end to rest against his shoulder as he surveyed the area through the scope. Bullets whizzed through the air, nicking the sides of the houses before flinging off onto the ground. 

Ghost's heart thumped as he zeroed in on a target, given way by the bursts of light from their gun fire. He aimed, exhaling and pulling the trigger. He swiveled, pulling the scope to the left, and doing the same with another. 

He dragged the sniper back to his chest, deciding it would be better to conserve ammo for now. Ghost slinked back into the shadows, as the rain continued to thud down around him, masking most sounds. 

After rounding a few houses, Ghost stopped, hearing a commotion, dropping to a crouch and slinging his gun in front of him. Step by step, he moved closer. 

He observed around the corner through his scope, two men were shuffling about, engaging in a knife fight. 

It was Soap, followed by one of the combatants.