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

Double Crossed: Part Two

With a soft groan, your eyelids fluttered open, a heavy lethargy settling over your senses.

The weak light of the room blurred at the edges as your groggy mind struggled to make sense of the surroundings. The air tasted sterile, and a dull ache pulsed through your temples. As your vision adjusted, you blinked in confusion.

Where the fuck am I?

A single metal table dominated the centre of the room, its surface gleaming coldly under the unforgiving lights. The walls, were grey, bare, and seemed to close in on the confined space. The only window was small, high up, and covered with reinforced mesh, allowing only slivers of dull daylight to filter into the room.

It all came back at once.

Fast-paced footsteps approached you from behind. You let out a gasp as your hands were pulled roughly behind your back, and something coarse and thick was being wrapped around your wrists - rope. A gloved hand shot out and yanked down your balaclava, and as you tried to reel away, you only ended up backing further into the grip of whoever had captured you from behind. There was a flash of silver, and suddenly, you felt a thick piece of duct-tape enveloping your mouth. The coarse texture of the sack met your skin, and your sight was taken away from you. A sharp sting pierced your neck, and a wave of dizziness washed over you. The world blurred, and your limbs grew heavy as the sedative took effect.

Your eyes flew open.

The Shadow Company had betrayed you.

Graves had betrayed you.

Sandman had betrayed you.

The tape and the sack were gone, but the restraints remained, tying you to the chair. Trying to move, you felt the weight of rope digging into your wrists. Panic flickered briefly before reason anchored you. The sedative made it difficult to gather your thoughts, but the gravity of the situation began to seep in - an unsettling realisation that you were no longer in control.

The door, a block of solid and reinforced metal opposite where you sat, opened. In sauntered Graves, his feline smile and composed gaze giving away nothing. 'Enjoy your nap, Doctor?'

Suppressing any outward display of anger, fear, or desperation, you refused to let him win. You held an unwavering stare, watching as he approached. Graves casually pulled a chair from the table, its back leg knocking against your knee as he straddled it. 'The silent treatment, huh? That's alright, I like to talk.' He rolled his shoulders, never breaking that eye contact. 'I came here to tell you a story. You like stories, Bones? Did you parents tell them to you at night, read a few chapters to you to lull you to sleep?' He pulled out a piece of gum - and a knife, slim and lethal. 'This story will be a bit different from those ones. It's about a girl who joined the military and became a major pain in my ass. Shall we start from the beginning?'

Though your mind was still slow, struggling to process the situation and accept it as reality, a feeling of dread washed over you. Graves paid no attention to your silence as he popped the gum into his mouth, chewing loudly. 'You seem like the type that gets annoyed by not knowing. Tell me, does it annoy you that you never found that second truck?' His eyes flitted up from his blade. 'Does it annoy you that you never found out who killed the driver you found?'

You couldn't suppress the slight pinch of your eyebrows as you thought back to your first mission with the Task Force.

The truck driver had turned his eyes to look up at Ghost. His face had both paled and reddened at the same time as those dark eyes rimmed with black bore down on him through the mask. Ghost had held the gun steady, and the man had fallen into hysterics. 'Je ne sais rien, nous ne savons rien! Ils allaient bien nous payer pour conduire les camions! Je suis innocent!' / 'I don't know anything, we don't know anything! They were going to pay us well to drive the trucks! I'm innocent!'