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

Where?

Leaving no time for the rest of 141 to settle, Price had dragged them all into the meeting room Fox and his colleague had sat in hours prior.

Information lit up on the laptop screen as Laswell tensed at the front of the table, her hands clenched into her palms as she stared at her screen. She looked aged, worried, as wrinkles plagued her forehead as her expression was only that of worry and frustration. The information they had received from Fox was still being processed and verified, but was jarring nonetheless.

Shepherd had been more corrupt than previously thought. The slinky old man had his hands everywhere. Cleaning up his mess would take several months. If they were lucky.

Though the information they currently had was enough to act on, much to Ghost's pleasure.

The higher ups had requested that anything pertaining to Shepherd be kept under tight wraps. No one was surprised that they wanted to sweep this corruption under the rug, it was their typical attitude.

Laswell looked around to the group that sat around the table, before giving a long weary look to Price.

Price was taking long drags off of his cigar, his jaw working itself, as his brows furrowed. His hat was tipped down with his head as he gripped the table.

"Fucking muppet bastard," Price mumbled.

Laswell sighed before moving to type on her computer. "You said it. His ties reach back years, connecting to who knows how many crimes. The cleanup is going to be massive."

Gaz piped up, "'N all of this is off the record?". Laswell nodded in response. Gaz sat back in disbelief, his head shaking from side to side, "Holy shit..", he muttered.

Soap's leg bounced as he took in the information moving by on the screen. Hundreds of operations barely recorded into files, and so, so much blacked out text. Images, provided by Fox, scrolled by, showing the damage Shepherd had caused. It made Soap sick to his stomach.

Ghost as per usual stayed quiet. This was bad, far worse than he'd initially expected, and by all means he was fuming. But he was distracted. Unable to focus on anything being thrown at him in the current moment. He simply took in the information, and stored it away to dwell upon later.

Laswell soon dismissed them, keeping Price back to further discuss their plans of action.

As of right now, their estimated ship out date was most likely the next day. At least, if they were going to act on the Shepherd sighting.

Gaz tagged along after Soap, clapping a hand onto the Scot's back, with a small smile spread across his lips. Soap returned it, a smaller one, but genuine.

Ghost walked beside them, watching the exchange out of the corner of his eye.

It was their typical dynamic, but it felt empty. Usually you would pipe in, tease the two of them, something along the lines of them being sentimental. Ghost smiled to himself at the thought.

"So, where's that little block of wood? She wasn't at the briefing. Or pickup," Gaz commented, looking between the two.

Soap's eyes widened, as he looked over to Gaz. Confused, Gaz stared back, blinking.

Ghost's smile dropped, turning his head to stare.

Soap broke eye contact, moving to look down at the ground as his hand rubbed his neck, "Mustn't have told ya."

"Told me what?"

Your limbs felt heavy, as you tried to move, a syrupy feeling rang through your body, your mind, and everything around you. It was pitch black as all of your senses strained to pick up anything.