Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Alpha Bravo Charlie

Simon "Ghost" Riley strutted into the SAS base with all the swagger of a man who thought he had life figured out. Being the son of a general had its perks, respect, status, and a future that was practically handed to him. His first day as a lieutenant was going to be the start of a brilliant career. What could possibly go wrong?

After dumping his bags on the cot, Simon was met by a man in plain clothes. The man stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back, looking every bit the part of a lowly servant.

"Lieutenant Riley, sir," the man said, his voice calm and deferential. "I'm here to assist with whatever you need. You've got some money for groceries?"

Simon barely looked up, waving a hand dismissively. "Groceries? No. But you can polish my boots. I'll need 'em shining by the morning. And run a hot bath while you're at it."

The man blinked but didn't flinch. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

Satisfied, Simon leaned back on his cot, grinning to himself. This was the life. His friends, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and John "Soap" MacTavish, might be slogging it out on Charlie and Alpha teams, but Simon? He was born for Bravo. The General's son would lead the team in no time.

He didn't think much about his bath until he smelled something... strange. Like burning plastic.

Curiosity piqued, Simon wandered to the bathroom, expecting to find hot water and a steaming bath waiting for him. Instead, his jaw dropped.

The man, his "batman," or whatever they called him, stood there, stirring a plastic bucket over a tiny portable stove. The water inside the bucket was boiling, sure, but so was the bucket. It had started to melt, dripping onto the floor in messy globs. The rest of the water was splashing out onto the floor, steaming away his hopes of a warm bath.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Simon barked, eyes wide in disbelief.

The man looked up, still as calm as ever. "Warming your bathwater, sir."

"In a plastic bucket? It's melted, you idiot!" Simon's voice cracked with frustration. "Now I have to take a cold shower in the middle of winter!"

The man shrugged. "Didn't think the bucket would melt, sir. It happens sometimes. Anyway, about that money for groceries, "

"No!" Simon growled. "No money, no nothing. Just get out before I," He stopped himself, waving the man away angrily.

Simon cursed under his breath, stomping back to his room. The cold shower loomed like a punishment sent by fate itself. But something else caught his eye, his wallet, lying open on the bedside table. The man had lingered too long near it, hadn't he?

Suspicion bubbling up, Simon decided to hide behind the door, waiting, watching. Sure enough, the "servant" crept back into the room, his fingers itching toward Simon's wallet. The moment the man's hand slipped inside, Simon's training kicked in. He grabbed a nearby bedsheet, moving like a shadow, and pounced.

In one fluid motion, he tossed the sheet over the man, trapping him like a squirming fish in a net.

"Gotcha, you bloody thief!" Simon grinned, tying the sheet around the man's limbs, securing him to the bedpost. "Thought you could rob me, eh? I'm Ghost, mate. Stealth is my game, and now you're done for."

The man struggled, muttering something under his breath, but Simon was already basking in his victory. This was it-his a moment to prove his worth on day one! He dashed out of the room, heading straight for the Colonel's office.

"Colonel!" Simon exclaimed, breathless with excitement. "You'll never believe what I've done. I caught a thief, red-handed! He was trying to rob me!"

The Colonel, looking mildly amused, followed Simon back to his quarters. As they entered, Simon pointed triumphantly to the man still tied to his bed.