sleepinglunali
Task Force 141. Not intended to accommodate personalities, only results. For nearly a year and a half 'Shade', or Kama Lovell, had given them exactly that.
Transferred from an elite American naval division under circumstances left deliberately vague, she quickly became one of the task force's strongest assets; precise under pressure, medically trained, frighteningly capable in combat, and difficult to know beyond her record. Her file explained enough to stop questions. Decorated service. Exceptional performance. Fast promotion. Everything else remained sealed behind professionalism and silence. Ghost preferred it that way. Lieutenant Simon Riley did not trust easily, did not speak unnecessarily, and did not care where people came from so long as they did their job. Yet from the moment Shade arrived, something about her seemed to unsettle the careful indifference he gave everyone else. Maybe because she never tried to impress him, nor did she seem too impressed. Or maybe because their distain for each other became routine.
Briefings turned into quiet power struggles. Corrections blurred into intense criticism. Every conversation ended too quickly or lasted far too long. Ghost found her insufferably composed, too observant, too unwilling to explain herself. Shade found him impossible: cold for the sake of being cold, dismissive, and carrying himself like he was above needing anyone.
Neither trusted the other, and neither wanted to. Somewhere beneath the irritation lived something neither acknowledged, that each was beginning to recognize parts of themselves in the other.
Then the intel leaks. A mission collapses before it begins, Task Force 141 is attacked from within. They are forced into retreat and relocated to a base in the United States while hunting the mole responsible, old routines begin to break under pressure.
[Modern Warfare based Fan-fiction story.]