💀Hey, so this is my first time writing about something on here, but I really enjoyed a lot of what the other creators had done. I wanted to add a female character that wasn't in the military because it was something I could relate to better.
Disclaimers: I do not have a military background.
*Trigger warnings: violence, gore, explicit content, and SA.*💀
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"Lieutenant Riley sit, please" Price waves his hand, holding a solid gold lighter, towards the sofa in his office.
Ghost settles his heavy frame into the seat, his black tactical boots adding inches to his already imposing stature. The tight black combats on his legs are crossed with various strappings that hold an assortment of materials and weaponry. His upper half is covered in a thick black long-sleeve 3/4 zip top, fastened all the way up. Over this, he wears a scuffed, scraped, and faded black tactical vest, adorned with patches and badges.
In the very center of his chest, there is an SAS mono-black flag, with "Ghost" written in white letters underneath. His face is hidden beneath a black balaclava, clinging tight to his head and chiseled jaw, emblazoned with a white skull. The skin around his hazel eyes are blacked with cam cream. A more detailed 3D skull mask is pulled to the top of his head.
His gloved hands rest on his thick thighs, the gloves embroidered with white bones across the fingers. A large watch on his wrist flashes green.
Time: 0807
"Knock knock," Soap says as he barges through the door.
"You're late," Ghost growls.
"Sorry, man, I had Gaz in a headlock in the gym and lost track of time."
"I'll take 'things that never happened' for $10, Alex," Gaz shouts from behind the door.
"Lads, come in, get settled, at ease," Price gestures with his cigar-laden hand towards the chairs in front of his desk.
"Let me go over why I have called you all up today. We've received intelligence about a cell of terrorists emerging from Russia. The intel suggests that they intend to ruffle NATO's feathers by purchasing vast amounts of munitions materials directly from the Chinese. We are seeing substantial sums of money being transferred from Eastern Europe."
Gaz erupts in a sarcastic tone, "Russian, wow, I am shocked."
Ghost leans in, his eyes locked onto the side of Gaz's head. Gaz can feel the gaze burning a hole through him.
"Worryingly, we haven't pinpointed the exact location yet, as we've had conflicting reports from the Latvian and Estonian governments," Price shuffles his papers. "Neither fucking country wants to admit they know anything," he continues in an annoyed tone.
"We are going to need to investigate outside of NATO knowledge , which means..."
"You don't exist, and the mission doesn't exist," Soap and Gaz chime in.
"Idiots," Ghost mutters.
"That's right, lads," Price stands up, signaling their departure.
"Ghost, a quick word," Price looks directly at Ghost as he rises from the sofa.
"Yes, sir," Ghost snaps to attention.
"At ease," Price says, sitting on the edge of his desk, leaning back comfortably to look up at the man in front of him, a cigar hanging from his lips. "When was the last time you had a holiday, mate?"
The words are unexpected, and Ghost doesn't have an answer.
"You've got a bunch of leave you carry over year after year, and I'm gonna get my arse chewed unless you find a fucking hobby and use some of it."
Ghost usually spends his downtime in the gym or at his small house in the country. It's a small, old farmhouse, and he keeps relatively low-maintenance pets like the ducks that use the pond and the occasional farm cat that visits the ducks instead of him.
"I could probably use the time to fix up the house, sir."
It's a plan he's had for at least seven years now. It's not much, but it's his, away from people, and a constant in a world filled with chaos. He bought the house for a steal from a man he had befriended before he joined the military, who had died. The village was on the outskirts of Manchester, and Ghost, or Simon as he was known back then, had found Jim's vehicle lodged in a dry-stone wall.
Simon had pulled him out of the car, and the belligerent old goat had started walking back through the village to the house. Simon had helped him for a few weeks, rebuilding the wall in exchange for food and lodging. Simon would seek refuge at Jim's house when home-life became too much for him over the years.
Even though Jim was a loner with no family, he was always accepting of Simon and never pried into his personal life. When Jim died, Simon inherited the house, which had a small bank debt that he paid off. The house was a wreck, but it was the only home he had.
"Yeah, maybe start with a watertight roof, mate," the captain said, his booming laughter punctuating
"You're dismissed" he continued puffing from his cigar.
Gaz and Soap are back in the gym when ghost appears in the doorway. "Tell Adams and Taylor that they will be included in the Hot Cell recon" he nods towards them both as he placed weights on a bar starting his normal morning routine.
"Gaz, tell Adams and Taylor..." Soap starts to say before Gaz side tackles him to the floor.
"Fuck off you tell them" Gaz said with Soap in a headlock.
"Idiots" Ghost grunts between lifts.
YOU ARE READING
Unmasking Ghost
Romance* Erm a lot of Smut really * but the plot....Ghost a Special Forces Lieutenant attached to the 141 task force accepts another ordinary Rescue mission that turns his world upside down. Lara walks into work for the very last time as she is plunged int...
