"What are you made of?" a Ghost x reader fanfic.

What a prick.

Vladimir, the larger and more imposing of the two, confidently opened the cell door where my teammate, who we called Ghost, sat battered and bruised. Despite his rough state, Ghost's eyes gleamed with defiance and a hint of cockiness. Mikhail, the smaller and more reserved man, lingered in the shadows, observing silently as Vladimir took charge.

"Vladimir, you think you can break me?" Ghost's voice, laced with a British accent, rang out defiantly, his defiance cutting through the tension in the room.

Vladimir, his Russian accent thick and commanding, responded with a cold smirk, "You will talk, or you will regret it, my friend. The choice is yours."

From my hidden spot, I listened intently, my worry for Ghost growing with each passing moment. Vladimir's interrogation was relentless, his threats hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Ghost, his demeanor unyielding, met each question with a defiant glare, refusing to give in to the pressure.

Surveying the scene before me from my hidden vantage point, I took stock of my surroundings. The harsh glow of the overhead light illuminated the basement, casting deep shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with the violence unfolding in front of me. As my eyes scanned the room, I noticed Mikhail standing in the background, his smaller frame juxtaposed against the towering figure of Vladimir. Despite the chaos playing out before him, Mikhail remained passive, a silent observer to the brutality being unleashed on Ghost.

The flickering light painted a haunting tableau, the stark contrast between Vladimir's ferocity and Mikhail's reluctance creating a chilling dynamic. While Vladimir's fists continued to rain down on Ghost, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake, Mikhail's inaction spoke volumes. His eyes, wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty, seemed to betray a deeper conflict within him.

Though the room was filled with the sounds of violence and anguish, a heavy silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the occasional grunt of pain from Ghost and the authoritative commands of Vladimir The tension was more than I had expected.

As I watched in horror, Ghost, hunched over and bloodied, spat out a mouthful of blood defiantly. Despite the pain etched on his face, his eyes blazed with unwavering defiance as he locked gazes with Vladimir.

"I won't say a damn thing to you," Ghost hissed through gritted teeth, his voice laced with defiance.

Vladimir's rage boiled over at Ghost's refusal, his face contorted with fury. With a gut-wrenching thud, he slammed his fist down on Ghost's face, the impact shattering his mask and sending a spray of blood across the cold, concrete floor. Ghost let out a guttural groan of pain, but his resolve remained unbroken.

"Tell me where the base is, you bloody bastard!" Vladimir growled, his voice a menacing growl as he towered over Ghost, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.

Vladimir's expression darkened at Ghost's continued defiance, his eyes narrowing with malice. With a twisted smirk, he leaned in closer to Ghost, his voice dripping with menace.

"You think you're tough, huh? Well, let's see how tough you are when I pay a little visit to your buddy, a few halls down," Vladimir threatened, his words laced with a cold determination.

The mention of Soap, a fellow teammate and friend, sent a shiver down Ghost's spine. Despite his weakened state and the exhaustion that weighed heavily on him after days of relentless interrogation, Ghost's eyes widened in alarm at the threat. The thought of Soap being subjected to the same brutality that he had endured filled him with a renewed sense of dread and determination.

As days of torture went on, Ghost's once defiant spirit began to wane. The lack of sleep, the physical toll of the beatings, and the constant psychological torment took their toll on him, leaving him struggling to stay awake and coherent. Shadows danced across his pale face as he fought to keep his eyes open, the weight of Vladimir's threats and the fear for Soap's safety bearing down on him like a heavy burden.

As Vladimir and Mikhail, the two Russians, turned to leave with a cruel smirk on their faces, a sense of urgency gripped me. I knew I had to act quickly to protect my teammates, Ghost and Soap, from the brutal threats hanging over them. With a silent determination, I slipped away from my hiding spot and darted into an empty room, my heart pounding in my chest.

I pressed my back against the cold wall, holding my breath as I waited for the Russians to pass by. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing fainter with each passing moment.

With a quick and cautious pace, I managed to slip inside the room before the door shut, the sound of it closing echoing in the empty space.