𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭: Ghost x Fem reader

Act 1: Dawn.

There's a friend I know who fears, and therefore hates monkeys. Crazy, right? A species so related to us in terms of genetics and
physicality, is so hated and feared by someone who could call herself it's genetic cousin. Some may argue that it's natural, that monkeys and apes can be dangerous and kill others, so it's a justified hatred. That it's crazy to not hate them.
But it goes too far.
There are whole organisations and groups of people out there who hate monkeys. They loathe, detest, hate them. And they're hiding right in plain sight, in the normalcy of the internet.

Have you ever had such an intense, burning hatred and gut feeling from someone or something, so intense that you wish to have it dead? To have it suffer?
My friend did. So, she went online, and she looked at videos of monkeys being tortured every single day.
Videos of them being torn limb from limb, neglected, gutted, hung, and burned, celebrated and consumed like it was porn.
I asked her about it, questioning her lust and adulation of these videos. She simply just says that she hates them, and is scared of them.
To me it sounds more like fascination.
To me, it sounds more like desire.
There's a very, very thin like between fear and desire.

...

It was Spring of 2019 when you were contacted by John Price for the formation of a Task Force. The word 'surprised' is a term that understates your reaction to his reaching out to you. You were quite an adequate soldier, yes.

You had joined teams in covert operations before and obviously your experience and dedication hasn't gone unnoticed since you ended up leading a lot of these operations.

Stealth, intuition, intelligence and communication were your lead assets. Being a woman had its own disadvantages, but behind your small feminine frame was a whole load of muscle which made you a good sparring partner and a great takedown executer.

Something strange, however, kept dragging you back to this dangerous military work no matter how often you tried to leave. A certain taste for brutality. An insatiable taste for it, you might say. It was hard to conquer this desire properly in missions because of rules of engagement and whatnot, but God it was the most closest you could get to it, legally that is.

Arguably, your taste for spirits was more hazardous.
Drowning yourself in liquor most nights was the closest you could get to drowning out these certain thoughts of yours. It kept you at bay in a certain way, since being around all these rowdy men all day kept you pent up and once you were alone you couldn't help but feel like a ticking bomb.
You've actually dissembled bombs before in missions. One time the guy wasn't so lucky, and you had to throw him off the edge of a balcony in a hostage recovery attempt.
It didn't pain you as much as it should've.
Something in you felt relieved almost, since you knew he would've had lifelong trauma. Another part was fascinated by the explosion of body parts.

Back to the present and away from the morbid, the formation of the task force was a big stepping stone. You felt important and like you had a purpose, especially since you and your team were tasked with the capture of a terrorist called Hassan. It was exhilarating.

You couldn't help but notice that you developed a new certain taste for spirits with this fetching formation.

John Price was an old man, an anti hero. He actually wasn't that old, he had just been worn down after years of work. He wasn't afraid to get the job done and to use questionable tactics to accomplish it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick was a beautiful man. He had the tendency to settle situations with his charm and good motivations. Maybe it was the fact that he was in the police force for so long, or he was just a good person.

John 'Soap' MacTavish was a stocky scot. Certainly aggressive and a will to do whatever it takes to achieve the right thing, he was what every man wanted to be deep down.