Contagious || Ghost x Fem

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝

You leaped out of the truck, feeling a rush of relief to stretch your limbs after the cramped ride. "You guys are like fucking boulders," you remarked, exaggerating your movements to emphasize the stiffness. Soap's grin widened at your comment as he offered a casual apology. The distant thumping of Mexican party music hinted at the lively atmosphere inside the bar. As the group made their way in, all eyes turned towards them, drawing attention to their presence. Stepping through the entrance, a few men immediately approached, their faces lighting up with recognition. "Alejandro! Rodolfo, so good to see you again," one of them exclaimed, eagerly shaking their hands in turn.

Amidst the warm greetings, you couldn't help but notice something that sent a jolt of apprehension through you. As the man reached out to shake Alejandro's hand, his sleeve slipped back slightly, revealing the telltale tattoo etched on his skin—a clear marker of cartel affiliation. Glancing over at Ghost, you saw the recognition in his eyes mirrored your own concern. This wasn't just any ordinary gathering—it was teeming with potential dangers, and the tattoo was a glaring sign of the risks they faced. "Ahora quienes son ellos?" (Now who are they?) The man asked putting a hand on Alejandros shoulder. 

"Mis amigos estan aqui de visita" (My friends, they are visiting). "Ah, welcome," the man replied warmly, though his eyes lingered on the newcomers with a hint of curiosity. As the conversation continued, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, knowing that beneath the facade of hospitality, there lurked a dangerous undercurrent. "¿Alguno de ustedes habla español?" (Do any of you know Spanish?) the man inquired, switching to Spanish. You nodded in agreement, indicating that you understood. The tension in the air grew palpable as the conversation veered into unfamiliar territory, prompting you to tread carefully, mindful of every word exchanged in this precarious situation.

As the man continued speaking in Spanish, you caught snippets of the conversation, trying to piece together the context. Alejandro maintained his composure, responding smoothly to the inquiries, while Ghost and the rest of the team observed the interaction with keen interest. It was clear that the man's questions were probing, and the atmosphere was charged with uncertainty. You remained on guard, ready to intervene if the situation took a turn for the worse. 

"I'm Hugo, nice to meet you all. Excuse my English, I'm not very good." As he introduced himself, you observed his distinguished appearance, noting the richness of his attire and the gleam of his jewelry. His admission of limited English proficiency surprised you, considering his status, but you appreciated his effort nonetheless. "Nice to meet you too, Hugo," you responded diplomatically, a hint of admiration in your tone. 

"I'm the owner of this bar, so if anyone wants some free tequila, let me know," Hugo declared with a genial smile, extending his hospitality to the group. Soap, ever eager, wasted no time in expressing his interest. "I'd like some," he chimed in, prompting a disapproving glare from Price, who clearly preferred a more cautious approach. Hugo snapped his fingers at the bartender, who promptly poured a shot. Soap wasted no time and downed it instantly. 

"Have a good time, amigos," Hugo bid them farewell before striding away. However, before disappearing into the crowd, he seized Alejandro's arm and leaned in close, speaking in a hushed tone. "Any funny business happens, your precious friends won't make it out of here," he warned ominously, his threat hanging heavy in the air. Everyone settled at the bar, tension thick in the air. Alejandro returned with a troubled expression etched across his face.