Ruby Laswell x Ghost (Vol. 2-4) Shattered Souls/Bandaged Bruises/Sinful Souls

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"What's your visual, Laswell?" Ghost asks me.

"Up the grand stair case, there's a private auction sign; they must be selling something they shouldn't be." I say silently as my arm hooks onto Ghost's. I feel his bicep and forearm contract under his tux, something I was still adjusting to him being in. I hated to admit it, but it felt right being on his arm- even if it was for the sake of the mission and blending it, it felt natural. The natural comfort and warmth of his body brought my mind into a safe space. And I wish I could convey that to him, but fuck I can't.

We wander through the halls of Moscow's palace, dressed in pristine clothing as if we were attended an art gala. I had acquired something I didn't mind- a tight grey suit with heels. If it was anything other than a dress, consider me happy.

I look over to König who towers over all of us, disguising himself as a guard. He was big, brood, and silent- he reminded me often of Ghost except König seemed to radiate more of a warmth to his actions.

We start up the staircase, König following close behind us. He had apparently knocked out a guard, so it seemed appropriate for him to "guide" us.

I look back to König, nodding to him. I hated to admit it, but even though he was tall and brooding he was attractive. However his voice did not match his physical appearance.

"They're auctioning off something important, let's find out what." He says short in his pitched German voice.

I look to Ghost, discreetly cutting around the corner from the hall and going into the open gold engraved double doors and leaning subtly against the wall. I look over as I see König hold his posture outside, as Ghost and I play pretend to be interested. No one notices our entrance, which made it all the better.

"Ivan Sishkin's first ever portrait, am I hearing $500?" The guy with a thick beard announces over the thousands of people sitting in red cloth chairs. Several hands raise up a sign, as he points to them. "$500? Can I get $550?" He sneakily creeps up higher, building the audience's competitiveness.

"$600, can I get $600?" More people raise their hands.

I look to Ghost. "For a painting? Can you believe this?" I shake my head.

"It's a private event; they have to be selling something they shouldn't be." Ghost responds silently into my ear.

I readjust my posture, folding my hands over my hips as I stare at the price go higher and higher. I would never understand nor would I ever comprehend rich people's agendas.

"Sold for $800! To the man in the front of the room with the white coat," the painting gets taken down by a woman, and walks down the staircase handing it to the man.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! The price you have all been anticipating this whole night!" A woman wheels out a glass case with a white cloth over it. I look to Ghost, then back to the stage. The woman slowly slides off the cloth, dropping it to the floor. König slightly looks around the corner, while Ghost tenses up at my side.

"Here we have one of a kind! A true unique piece that Russia has ever acquired!" The man gestures his hands out to the object, my mouth dropping.

"No fucking way," I breathe.

"The key to Vladimir Makarov's secret facility," my eyes widen. We needed this, but we also needed the money. The woman covers the case back up, making sure to rile up the crowd.

"Can I get $700 to start, $700?" The man announces. Almost everyone's hand raises. How the hell did the acquire such private property?

"Price, Gaz," I turn into my shoulder and speak quietly into the ear pierce. "They're auctioning off the key to Makarov's private facility in the east wing of the palace."

"Holy shit," Price responds.

"Cut a hole in the roof, go in through the back. There's a wall you can cut through so you can then cut a hole into the glass and grab it," Ghost says quietly. "No one will see you."

"Copy," Gaz responds.

"Can I get $1,000? $1,000 going once, going— great! Can I get $1,200."

Holy shit, I breathe. I look to König, nodding. This thing wasn't selling anytime soon- people knew how powerful Makarov was and what he can do to this country and other countries. And I could almost bet it all on red that this room was filled to the brim with Mafia leaders and drug lords who had serious power over Russia's cartel and tunnel work.

Ghost and I turn the corner, silently exiting the room and starting down the hall with König.

"So- they're selling off Makarov's private property, huh?" König grunts.

"Yeah, they are. But if we secure it before anyone else does then it keeps us in the game- puts us the next step." I say.

"We need to be agile, if we are too sloppy Makarov can easily find out it was us." Ghost says as he looks around.

"Key acquired, lieutenants." Soap says.

"Holy shit, I hated every second of that," Gaz responds.

"Good work, 010. Meet up back at shelter." I look around to secure our area and make our way past people, making sure to blend in as much as possible.

König, being the guard he was, puts his hand on my lower back guiding me. His hand pretty much took over my whole back, being the gentle but not so gentle giant he was. Everyone looks at us, as if we intimidated them. But honestly, I couldn't blame them. We had an almost seven foot tall man with a mask and another tall man with a ghost baklava.

I then am quick to notice Ghost look to him, taking over his position. König looks to him then to me with utter confusion, but we continue forward.

Simon Riley.