Specter's Redemption |Ghost x Reader|

Doomsday Countdown

(A/n: I've given up on finding pictures, soo sorry. Anyways, onto the story)

The desert night was still, the moon casting faint silver light over the base's perimeter. Shadow Company's presence was unmistakable—guards patrolled in tight formations, the rumble of the armored vehicle punctuating the air. From their vantage point just outside the gate, (Y/n) crouched behind a rocky outcrop with her team of former Shadows, their blacked-out gear blending seamlessly with the darkness.

Her team moved like wraiths, blending seamlessly into the night. (Y/n) crept forward, her knife glinting faintly in the moonlight. She approached one of the guards from behind, her movements silent and deadly. With a quick motion, she wrapped an arm around his neck, driving her blade into his chest. The man crumpled without a sound.

Nearby, one of her Shadows disabled another guard, dragging the body into the shadows. The remaining guards didn't notice their comrades disappearing until it was too late.

(Y/n) gave the signal, and two of her team members lobbed smoke grenades toward the armored vehicle. The thick gray haze disoriented the driver and gunner, who began shouting orders in confusion. Using the cover, (Y/n) climbed onto the vehicle and yanked the hatch open, dispatching the gunner inside with a single, well-placed shot.

"Gate's clear," she whispered into her comm. "Proceeding to the rendezvous."

Meanwhile, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz maneuvered through the base's subterranean tunnels. The air was damp and stale, the walls lined with pipes and faintly glowing emergency lights. Ghost took point, his suppressed rifle at the ready.

"Remind me again why we got the rat tunnels," Soap muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you're the quietest," Ghost replied dryly, earning a quiet snort from Gaz.

The group halted abruptly as Ghost raised a hand. Voices echoed faintly from up ahead. Two Shadow Company soldiers were patrolling, their boots clicking against the concrete. Ghost signaled, and the team split up.

Gaz climbed onto a pipe running along the wall, positioning himself above the soldiers. Soap ducked into a dark alcove, his knife glinting in his hand. Ghost waited in the center, blending into the shadows. As the soldiers passed, Gaz dropped down silently, taking one out with a quick strike. The second soldier barely had time to react before Soap lunged, driving his blade into the man's throat.

"Clear," Soap muttered, wiping his knife on the soldier's uniform.

"Keep moving," Ghost ordered, leading the way.

The two teams converged outside the hangar, regrouping under the cover of a large stack of crates. (Y/n) gestured toward the building, where a faint hum of machinery and muffled voices could be heard.

"This is it," she whispered. "Stay sharp."

They entered silently, spreading out to cover the ample space. Crates of weapons and supplies were scattered everywhere, and at the center of the room stood the missile, its sleek surface gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Valeria stood nearby, flanked by several Shadow Company soldiers. She was speaking to a technician working on the missile's console.

"Take out the guards first," Ghost whispered. "Then we deal with her."

But before they could act, a Shadow soldier turned, spotting Soap as he moved into position. "Intruders!" the man shouted, raising his weapon.

The hangar erupted into chaos. Bullets flew, and the air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire. (Y/n) ducked behind a crate, firing precise shots at the Shadows. One soldier charged her position, but she sidestepped his attack, slamming her rifle butt into his face. He dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Across the hangar, Soap and Gaz worked together, laying down suppressive fire as Ghost flanked the enemy. Ghost's movements were calculated and lethal, each shot finding its mark.

(Y/n) spotted Valeria retreating toward the missile's control console, her expression calm despite the chaos.

"Valeria's making a move!" she called into her comm, breaking cover to pursue.

A Shadow soldier intercepted her, tackling her to the ground. (Y/n) rolled with the impact, drawing her knife and plunging it into his side. She shoved him off and scrambled to her feet, firing at another soldier who tried to flank her.

Soap tossed a grenade toward a cluster of Shadows, the explosion sending them flying.

"That's one way to clear a room!" he shouted, grinning.

With the Shadows thinned out, Ghost advanced on Valeria, his rifle trained on her.

"Don't move!" he barked.

Valeria raised her hands slowly, a smirk playing on her lips. "Took you long enough."

As the dust settled in the hangar, Ghost carefully moved toward Valeria, his rifle unwavering. She stood still, her hands raised, but the smirk on her face showed no fear. Behind her, the missile loomed, an ominous reminder of the stakes.

Soap and Gaz had already moved to the missile, working quickly to disarm it. Gaz crouched by the console, his fingers flying over the controls. Soap stood beside him, a toolkit in hand, glancing back at the others as he muttered,

"This thing's got many moving parts. No pressure, Gaz."

"None at all," Gaz replied, his voice tight as he worked.

(Y/n) scanned the hangar, her eyes darting across the crates and shadows. Something felt off. Her gaze flicked toward a side exit near the room's far end. It was subtle, but she caught the faintest movement—the door closing silently. Graves. (Y/n) broke off from the group, heading to pursue Graves.

Ghost's attention was locked on Valeria.

"You're going to tell me where Graves is," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Valeria's smirk widened. "You just missed him," she said, her tone dripping with mockery. "He's probably halfway across the base by now. You'll never catch him."

"Try again. Where is he?" Ghost stepped closer, his rifle now mere inches from her face.

"Do you really think I'd give him up that easily? You're wasting your time, Ghost. Graves has his own plans, and I have mine." Valeria's gaze flickered, but her smirk didn't falter

"Where. Is. He?" Ghost's eyes narrowed. He grabbed her by the collar of her jacket, hauling her forward.

Valeria's smirk finally faltered as Ghost's voice dropped to an icy whisper. She hesitated, her eyes darting to the missile. "He's still here," she admitted. "But you're already too late. Hassaan's in Chicago with the other missile. By stopping this one, the other will already have launched."

Soap looked up from the missile, his jaw tightening. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Focus, Soap," Gaz said, not looking away from the console. "We stop this one first."

Ghost shoved Valeria back against the crate, his grip tightening. "You better hope we're not too late. If we are, you'll regret it."

Valeria gave a dry laugh, even as fear flickered in her eyes. "I'll take my chances."