Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Lost in Las Almas pt-1

Walking home after a long, gruelling shift, you enjoyed the quiet of the dimly lit streets. Your long black hair swayed gently as you moved, the soft sheen of your silk blazer and dress catching the faint glow of the streetlights. With an innocent, angelic face framed by rectangular glasses, your big, dark eyes scanned the empty surroundings. The city seemed asleep.

But then, a faint, gruff sound broke through the silence-a whimper, coming from the nearby alley. Your heart skipped a beat. Curiosity and concern pulled you toward the noise.

"Hello?" You called out softly as you cautiously stepped into the alley.

Your breath hitched the moment your eyes locked on him. A man lay slumped against the cold, dirty pavement, his hoodie drenched in blood, his body battered and broken. His skull mask was shattered, half of it lying beside him, revealing part of a bruised and bloodied face. His chest heaved shallowly, his breaths ragged and weak.

You knelt down, trembling, eyes darting to the dog tags clutched in his gloved hands. The name on them sent a jolt through you: *S. Riley.*

"Oh my God," you breathed, horror sinking in as you realized this was no ordinary man-an SAS soldier, gravely wounded and barely clinging to life.

A single hazy eye opens as you kneel down, his gaze drifting towards you, his chest rising and falling in slow and shallow breaths. Despite the pain, a flicker of recognition flashed in his eye at the sound of your voice. His grip on his tags tightens.

"Hey..." Ghost rasped, his voice rough and hoarse, yet somehow laced with a small sense of recognition. The effort to speak was evident, each word seeming to cost him immense pain.

Ghost let out a pained gasp as you spoke, his body convulsing slightly. Slowly, he shifted his position slightly, attempting to sit up straighter.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, his words barely comprehensible. "Ambushed on a mission... Bastards..."

Blood was trickling from several wounds, most notably his shoulder and side, painting the dark fabric of his hoodie with a sickening shade of red.

You unzipped his jacket and lifted his T-shirt. "Oh my god" you gasped. You immediately took off your blazer and pressed it on his wound gently. "Hold on! I am going to help you."

He winced as you touched his body, the intense pain causing him to grit his teeth. The pressure of the blazer against his wound made him hiss.

"Shite..." He murmured, his voice sounding strained. He reluctantly let you help him, knowing he was in far too much pain to stop you. His hand fumbled and grasped your arm, his fingers digging into your skin.

"What's your name...?" He asked, his voice a rough murmur, his gaze fixed on your face.

"I am Doctor Rose. Can you stand up? I need to get you to the hospital as soon as possible?" You said.

Ghost's jaw clenched, his expression contorting as he attempted to stand. He struggled to move, his body battered and weak from the fight and blood loss.

"Bloody hell, I'm... trying," he gritted out, his breath coming in short gasps as he slowly moved, relying heavily on you for support.

With every painful motion he winced, his jaw tightly set as he struggled to hold in the sounds of pain.

"My car is just parked here." You supported him as he walked. You opened the passenger door for him.

He with you, every step a struggle against his battered body. He leaned heavily against you, his breathing laboured as he fought through the pain.