I Feel It In My Bones (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Take it to the Graves

Over the next week, you co-ordinated with the specialised team in the laboratory through virtual meetings. Each meeting was a dissection of the virus's behaviour, its intricacies, and potential vulnerabilities. Charts, graphs, and genetic sequences showed on your monitor as the team pulled apart detail after detail of the virus - each discovery only adding to the complexity and unease surrounding Ivanov's creation.

You kept it simple when you relayed the information, as and when it was needed, to Laswell and Price - until one day, one arrogant man with an American drawl requested you meet with him in his office.

You had been avoiding him as much as you could see you were attacked. And though the base's security had increased, and it was declared a fluke, you still attributed some of the blame to the Commander himself.

But those bitter feelings were personal - and anything regrading the bioweapon was duty.

And so, around mid-morning, with a stifled yawn you navigated the hallways to find the man you were increasingly disliking. When you found his office, you knocked twice and swung open before stepping inside and pulling your mask higher onto your nose.

The smell of cigarettes hit you - and unlike how it was with Ghost, the smell only churned your stomach unpleasantly. His office exuded an air of authority and efficiency - the walls, painted in a subdued military green, were adorned with framed commendations, mission photographs, and a large world map with mismatched pins dotted in various locations. To no surprise, the room was meticulously organised - shelves of books were carefully arranged, and the desk, a robust mahogany, was clutter-free except for a few neatly arranged documents. The lighting was subdued, casting a warm glow over the room without compromising its professionalism. A large, intricately detailed model of a military helicopter occupied a corner of the room - and just behind it, if you were paying enough attention, you could see two aged posters of pin-up girls, the paper yellowing and ragged at the edges.

Your lips curled under your balaclava.

Graves, seated behind his desk, looked up from his work as you entered. 'Well,' he greeted, shooting you that cat-like smile. 'If it isn't my favourite Doctor. Take a seat.'

A pair of leather chairs were stationed on the other side of the desk. You settled into one, the fabric creaking softly beneath. Graves folded his hands on the table, studying your expression with his observant steel orbs. 'We have a lot to catch up on. After the meeting a few days ago, I read through the reports. It sounds like a damn nightmare we're dealing with.'

You nodded, maintaining your usual neutral gaze under his watchful eye. 'It's worse than we initially thought, that's for sure. Ivanov's work is sophisticated, and we're still grappling with the full extent of its capabilities.'

Graves' gaze remained steady. 'I know. We need to find a way to neutralise this threat before it becomes something we can't contain. We can't afford to underestimate the enemy.' He leaned forward, those steely eyes steady on you. 'You left the last meeting before I could ask some more questions. That's why I called you in here today.'

You dipped your head, the memories of throwing up afterwards, the pit-like feeling in your stomach, and the overwhelming frustration and fear you felt surging forward like a wave. You pushed them down again, clearing your throat. 'I figured - I can only apologise for leaving so abruptly. What can I talk you through?'

Graves leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished surface of his desk. 'Start with the virus. How the hell can a sneeze and a sniffle be used as a weapon?'

'It's not a simple virus anymore,' you started, taking in a deep breath. 'Whatever Ivanov has created is smart. It possesses the ability to evade detection by the immune system during the initial stages, perhaps by mimicking the host's own cells or employing camouflage mechanisms. It remains dormant for a day, allowing it to infiltrate various tissues, including the nervous system, without causing noticeable symptoms.'