Contagious || Ghost x Fem

𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞

The next day

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In the dimly lit interrogation room, the tension hangs heavy in the air as everyone waits for Hassan to regain consciousness. The events of the mission weigh heavily on everyone's minds, especially the absence of Ghost, who was rushed into emergency surgery along with the other survivors. Price stands at the head of the table, his expression stern and unwavering as he gazes at Hassan, who lies unconscious on the interrogation table. 

You sit nearby, your body still bearing the bruises and scratches from the intense firefight. Despite your weariness, your focus remains sharp as you await the interrogation to unfold. Soap, Keegan, and Gaz stand at the back of the room, their eyes fixed on Hassan with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The gravity of the situation weighs heavily on them, knowing that the information Hassan possesses could be crucial to preventing further bloodshed. As the minutes tick by, the room remains eerily silent, broken only by the occasional sound of equipment humming softly in the background.

"Y'all got a clear picture?" Graves asks, looking at the laptop screen on the table. "Crystal," Shepherd replies. "All set," Laswell says. "Alright, we're live, folks," Graves says when just then, Hassan's eyes flutter open, and as consciousness returns to him, he begins to curse vehemently in Arabic. His words are filled with anger and defiance, his voice laced with venom as he glares at the team gathered around him. You watch closely, your gaze unwavering as you observe Hassan's every move. Despite the language barrier, you remain alert, ready to assist in any way necessary to ensure the success of the interrogation.

As Hassan's tirade continues, Price steps forward, his voice calm yet commanding as he asserts the team's authority. With a stern look, he signals for Graves to begin his line of questioning, knowing that patience and persistence will be key in unraveling the truth from the captured enemy. Graves's voice cuts through the tension in the room, his tone firm yet composed as he addresses Hassan's outburst. "Alright, calm down," he says, his words carrying a note of authority.

Hassan's gaze flickers towards Graves, a sneer playing at the corners of his lips. "Do you speak Arabic?" he asks, his voice dripping with disdain. Graves meets Hassan's gaze evenly, his expression remaining stoic. "No," he replies simply, his arms crossed in front of him. Hassan's lips curl into a derisive smirk. "Farsi?" he inquires, his tone laced with sarcasm. Graves lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes in response. "No," he states bluntly, his patience wearing thin. "Of course not," Hassan scoffs, his voice dripping with contempt. "Then I will speak your bastardized medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs." Graves's jaw tightens slightly at the insult, but he maintains his composure. "Ah, see, we're getting off to a bad start here, Hassan," he remarks, his tone tinged with mild sarcasm.

Hassan's voice drips with defiance as he asserts his authority. "You're talking to a Quds Force officer," he declares, his tone unyielding. Graves can't help but let out a chuckle, his lips curling into a wry smile. "And you're the commander of a foreign terror organization," he retorts, his words cutting through the tension in the room. Hassan's eyes narrow slightly at the remark. "I can say the same to you," he counters, his voice laced with bitterness. Graves's gaze hardens as he leans in slightly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What's your target, 'Major'?" he emphasizes the title mockingly.