Unmasking Ghost

Rescue

Ghost POV

I was just finishing my morning routine of waking up, grabbing a coffee from the Rec room, going to the gym, hitting the weights before the gym was busy and taking a shower.

Usually, I had the showers to myself and would use that time for some personal relief. It had been a while since I had any real intimacy, and the steam and warmth of the water provided a temporary escape. I always picked the stall in the communal showers furthest from the door, facing the wall.

The balaclava was the last thing to come off, and I would wait until it was soaking wet and almost impossible to breathe through. The feeling of not being able to breathe, the water pooling in the fabric restricting my air supply - it was my secret.

I grip my erection. One hand balancing my naked body as I breathe through the wet balaclava, gasping for air as I release into the shower. I strip the balaclava and run it under the hot water.

Rinsing my closely cropped hair and body, I turn the shower off and reach for a towel. I squeeze the balaclava as dry as possible before heading back to my room with a towel around my waist and my watch still on.

I received an email notification on my smart watch as i walked.

Subject: Level - CLASSIFIED
Re: Terror Cell.
Location: Canada.
Come to my office, lads.
Cpt. Price

I dismissed the notification and quickly got dressed.

Once dressed and ready, I made my way to Price's office within 7 minutes. To my surprise, Soap and Gaz were already there.

"Close the door, chaps," Price said as I closed it behind him.

"We've received a tip-off from the lads in MI6 about a kidnapping of some UK nationals in Canada," Price explained.

"And?" I responded matter-of-factly. "Tell those guys to handle it."

"Normally, I would, but the last message received from one of the captives mentioned the same name that came up in our hot cell Intel," Price said, leaning back in his chair.

"Alright, grab your gear and get moving. The flight leaves from Brize in approximately 2 hours. Get our people out of there, and if you can't do that, retrieve their belongings and give the captors hell."

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One hour and 45 minutes later, I stood on the tarmac of Brize Norton with Soap, Gaz, Adams, and Taylor, waiting for the plane to taxi round.

We were an imposing group, all over 6 feet tall and dressed in full black tactical gear, stripped of any patches or insignia. Our Kevlar vests were equipped with tactical weaponry.

I preferred my SA80, but I always carried two Glock 17s as backup. Gaz and Soap were close-quarter fighters and usually carried a combat shotgun along with their UCIWs.

Adams was the unit sniper with an assortment of weaponry, but his customized HK417 was his favorite.

Taylor couldn't decide, so he ended up looking like Rambo despite being the shortest among us.