Callsign: Princess // Ghost x Reader/oc

10

"Princess. Captain wants to see us."

I turn in surprise to see Ghost waiting. He's clutching his rifle in his arms like he's expecting enemy fire at any moment, even here on the aircraft carrier.

"Now?" I frown. "We're leaving in less than an hour."

Sea breeze whips at my hair and the fabric of my clothes. I can't imagine something as simple as wind flapping Ghost anywhere. I wonder for a moment what his hair must look like, beneath the mask. It's impossible. I can't imagine anyone beneath there at all. Just Ghost — as he is, as he's always been. Masked and mysterious.

Deathly irritating.

"If you want to question the way Price runs things, take it up with him and not me."

I glance around, hoping Alejandro's somewhere in the vicinity bearing witness to this — See! He's the jerk, not me! But infuriatingly, el Vaquero's nowhere in sight. I have no choice but to follow Ghost into the briefing room where Price waits. He seems to have aged ten years in two hours. I wonder if anyone reminds him to sleep on these missions.

He says, "Close the door."

I push the sheet of steel until the lock latches against the wall. Price sighs. It's just me and Ghost here.

"Laswell's just made contact." Price pauses, arms folded across his chest. "We've received intel that Volkov's in the vicinity."

Ghost shifts his weight. "The government compound?"

Price nods. "At this stage, we suspect there's corrupt ownership. That, or Volkov found a legal loophole to have Belsky freed. Wouldn't make sense for him to go personally, though."

"It doesn't make sense," I say. "Why would he care about Belsky at all?"

"We don't know that he does. He could be in the area for any reason." Price pauses. "Which is why I need the two of you to run reconnaissance."

"Just us?"

"The others are exhausted."

I suppress a sigh. "And I'm guessing I was chosen, not for my military prowess, but because of the joint operation agreement."

Price nods. "Your involvement means the distinction between enemy spying, and saving the world."

"And you're a damn good pilot," Ghost says gruffly.

Silence follows. I can do no more than blink. Price seems to recover from the surprise more swiftly — leaving me wondering what on earth has altered Ghost's mental state enough to actually give me a compliment. I know for a fact he hasn't slept. But he did gulp down plenty of water, and snarfed back a bacon sandwich beneath his mask when we were offered food. I begin to wonder if he simply misspoke, and now it's too late for him to take the words back.

"And that," Price nods. "You'll be taking a two-seater plane. I want recon only, is that understood? Confirm presence of the target: Victor Volkov. Count up personnel surrounding him. Once we have an idea of what we're dealing with, we'll form a tac plan."

Ghost stiffens. "I don't like this, Price."

It mirrors my own unease, churning in my stomach with the remnants of coffee I'd choked down in preparation for the flight. Volkov's in our vicinity. An hour away by plane.

I wonder how I'll be able to restrain myself from raining down bullets when we finally get to him.

Because I'm a god damn professional, that's how, I remind myself fiercely. Whatever Ghost might think, I have to prove him wrong. Except where my piloting skill's involved. That comment's still too weird to think about.