Recruit 2162 | Ghost x Reader

Chapter 1

A/N: I blame the existence of this fic on my RDR mutuals who starting reblogging cod onto my dash and ignited my infatuation with the 141. As much as I willed my brain not to write any fanfiction about these beautiful men, I simply have no control. So here we are.

Apologies in advance for any military inaccuracies but let's be honest that's not what any of us are here for 

(fyi this is 18+ and has eventual smut)

Ghost had been fair in his evaluation of Gaz's recruit. Soap's too. While it had become somewhat of a game amongst the men to be crowned the winner of Price's challenge, who insisted it was not a challenge but instead a task, their top priority was finding the best fit into their close-knit family.

However, that didn't mean Ghost wasn't slightly invested in being the one to succeed.

The group of recruits he was overseeing at Sandhurst were there under the guise of a selection process for their next posting, assessing their strengths to see who would fit best in which regiment. It wasn't wholly a lie, though only one of them would be making it to the next step, where even more training was to ensue. They were a decent bunch, full of life and spirit that had not yet been ground out of them after years of gruelling military work. Unfortunately, he had yet to spot anyone special enough to go that extra mile.

So, after only observing their training, he'd come up with his own tests for the group, which they were now halfway through. Today was one of his favourites, something anyone in special forces knew rather well. He was going to have them run the pit, while he barked orders at them on how to do it.

They were timed. Their accuracy was tested. They came in one by one so that none would know what to expect. While their speed, aim, and ability to take in their surroundings in a split second were important, it was their reaction to his orders that he was more interested in. Notably, when they reached the second checkpoint and were asked to throw a flashbang into a room with two enemies they could easily just have shot down. By way of inciting competition, a leaderboard had been placed at the entrance that would record their times. He had also made private notes for any that he thought promising so he could refer to them later, though the entries were sparse.

Ghost would never admit it to anyone other than the voices in his head, but he hadn't expected much from you when you'd made your way through the door.

"Name?" he called over his shoulder, chalk at the ready to scribble it on the board.

"2162."

He let out a quiet huff and glanced over his shoulder, seeing you stood sturdy with hands clasped behind your back. "No callsign?"

"No sir."

Briefly, Ghost pondered whether that meant you were so uninteresting not to deserve one, or if you were a perfectly blank blob of clay ready for moulding. He didn't much care either way, so he scribbled down your number and turned to face you fully.

"There are four checkpoints. You start here," he gestured to the rope ladder you were to climb up, "chose your gun at the top, slide down the rope and make your way through as fast and as accurately as you can, following my orders as you go. Timer starts as soon as your hand touches the ladder. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Quickly then," he gestured to the ladder, "we don't have all day."

You didn't waste a breath responding, instead turned on your heel and instantly hoisted yourself onto the ladder, hearing the beep of a timer begin. No time was wasted at the top either, you picking the first pistol your hands landed on and then gripping the rope to slide down, being thankful for your fingerless leather gloves that saved you from the rope burn.