As Grim as the Reaper | PREQUEL Simon 'GHOST' Riley

SIX

Your first year with Alex and the Special Ops Unit flew by in the blink of an eye.

You almost couldn't believe the things you'd achieved, the things you'd seen, the things you'd been through. 

But now, things were getting serious.

The Al-Qatala were becoming a huge force in the Middle East, one of the biggest threats to war that the globe had seen in recent years, and you were out there chasing chemical weapons.

Now, you found yourself strapped into a helo, covered in tactical gear designed for stealth, a black mask adorning your face. 

That was new.

There was a close call a few months back. John had gone out on a mission, and he was briefly captured, and they had information on you that absolutely terrified him to his very core. It took you right back to your Army days, to being injured on your last tour.

Your mind had flashed back to the insurgent standing over you, blade pressed into your abdomen as he leaned down, taking in your features.

"Such a pretty face." He'd whispered. "Such a waste, a beauty like you...I wonder if your family are just as pretty."

After finding out your life and your image put him in danger, you decided to take your callsign to a new level. The day after John's safe return, you'd turned up to training in a half mask, a piece of black cloth big enough to cover your mouth and nose.

It was tactical, and it hid your identity well, which was the entire point. Anything you could do to make it harder for enemies to find out who you and your family were.

You'd gotten inspiration from hearing about one of your brother's lieutenants, Ghost. Apparently, not even the people he worked with every day knew what he looked like, and to anyone who would read the records, no such soldier existed. You'd been told he wore a skull mask, covering everything.

So if it worked for him, why not you?

From now, and every time you wore it, you were only the Reaper. 

It initiated an unspoken level of fear into your enemies, as your eyes said all the words your mouth could not. Now, it hid you in plain sight; a force of nature collecting souls wherever she went.

With the mask, you found you no longer got nervous on missions, like the anonymity protected you. But at this moment, as the helo swayed and jagged over the mountains of Verdansk, your eyes were squeezed shut and your grip on the rails was so tight that you knew your knuckles were white beneath the gloves.

"What's goin' on, angel?" Alex spoke from next to you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You'd been silent since the second the helo had taken off, something that anyone who knew you well, knew was completely out of character.

"Fuck off, Keller." You spoke through gritted teeth.

He chuckled, nudging you playfully, but it only made you gasp as your hands gripped the railing tighter.

"Seriously, what's goin' on with you?"

"Don't like heights."

Alex had to bite his lip to stop himself bursting into fits of laughter. You were one of the most deadliest assassins he'd ever seen. He'd witnessed you fearless, running into armed enemies with nothing but a knife.

But heights?

That was your Achilles heel?

"Shut up, Alex." You grunted, as if you were reading his mind while he watched you with an amused stare.