Betrayal | Ghost x Reader

Choice

Word Count: 3.5k

My breath immediately became lodged in my throat, my legs rendered utterly useless. My mouth hung agape, my rifle slipping from my hands and clattering against the metal ground, alerting every single fucking AQ soldier that I was here, standing still with no weapon in hand. Essentially target practice. But I paid no mind, not when my former best friend stood before me, a wicked grin on his face. Wind slapped me from every which way, my footing almost faltering. "Hello Y/n," Blaze hissed under his breath, his voice almost completely drowned out by the loud hail of gun fire intermingled with the heavy rain. My mouth ran dry and I thickly swallowed. It couldn't be him. It just couldn't.

Blaze tsk'd his lips, basking in my fear, giving me a look I had only see a day prior. An evil look, an emotion inscribed on his face that spoke a thousand words: Hate. It was a direct copy of the expression Hassan flashed my way. An expression I never in a million years thought I'd see on Blaze's features. But here he was, defying my odds. "What? No smile for your صديقك الحقيقي الوحيد (only true friend)?" He barked angrily, his voice raising as he spoke in his mother tongue. Loud sounds of footsteps began to approach on our position, AQ or allies? "You'll pay Y/n," Blaze whispered to me, his voice holding promise, "You will." With that, he turned on his heel and ran off behind him, leaving me in shock. 

My eyes remained wide, almost popping straight out of my skull. What in the mother fuck did that mean? Why didn't he just kill me? Why did he look at me like that? With so much hate and resentment? Didn't he want what was best for me? What about the promises he used to make to me? Words he spoke to soothe my nerves, words that held so much care, so much trust, so much platonic love. A bullet whizzing past my arm knocked me back to my senses, my teeth gritted together as a strangled cry fell from my lips. My eyes darted down to the graze on my bicep, fresh blood leaking from the superficial wound. "Fucking fuck," I growled, bending down to retrieve my rifle off the slippery floor. 

My trembling hands made contact with the slick metal of my gun as another bullet whizzed past me, barely missing my head by a mere inch. A loud crack of thunder caused me to jump, my fucking rifle slipping from my grasp and off the rig. Panic. Panic was something I had never truly felt on the battlefield, never had plague my mind when I was in action. Mostly because I didn't care whether I lived or died, it was a trivial concept to me. Life or death situations were never something that kept me up at night, if anything the promise of death lulled me to a blissful sleep. But now here I was, shaking in undeniable panic, watching as my rifle splashed into the raging waters of the ocean beneath me, with an AQ soldier shooting at me from behind. 

Tendrils of fear slowly crept up on me, wrapping around my limbs before clutching at my beating heart, tightening its grip until I felt like I couldn't breathe. A bullet collided into the ground next to my feet, at least the handler of the gun had no aim what-so-fucking-ever. "Y/n, do you copy?" Soap's voice cut through the comms, his Scottish accent slicing through the fear gripping at me, pulling me back into some form of reality. My body ducked down and rolled over as another bullet flew in my direction, firing at where I had stood only moments ago. My hand gripped around my throwing knife as I popped back up just inches away tumbling off the edge of the platform. In one fluid motion, I sent the deadly weapon propelling through the air before it lodged in the throat of the AQ soldier shooting at me, his body falling to his knees as blood sprayed from the diagonal wound.

Not wasting another second, I grabbed another knife off my vest before pounding my feet against the slippery steps of the stairwell up onto the top of the rig. "Y/n? Do you copy?" Soap's voice called out again, his tone holding a bit of alarm. My eyes flitted around the different buildings standing tall before me, control rooms no doubt. "Copy, lost my weapon," I quickly replied as I slowly stalked into one of the buildings, clutching my knife to my chest. "How did y-" Soap's question was immediately cut off my Ghost's British accent overpowering him through the comms. "Find a fucking weapon," he whisper shouted, a loud pop of gunfire echoing through his side of the comms. My lips pulled together, I decided not to reply to him. He doesn't get to decide when or when not he cares.