#farah urzikstan's ghost

[rubyspring]

Haunted.

[azucarera-art]

when u, a queen, come across another king, & u discuss how best to maximize ur joint slay 💅🏽✨

[siddyyyyyyyy]

You're Only Sixteen

wc: ~3.6k

summary: child soldier joins task force 141 part FOUR; one, two, three; five

warnings: discussion of abusive military camp, description of anxiety, some violence, (grieving), nightmares

a/n: this is getting really interesting now and I'm trying my best to keep the story entertaining and logical... hope you enjoy it!

Briefing room, 15:21, two days before the mission.

The new plan of the mission is projected on the white wall in front of you all, with Price standing beside it while everyone listens. He goes over the plan and explains who would be doing what, making sure he gets the message across. Laswell stands beside him, arms behind her back, as she nods along and adds information occasionally.

»This needs to go as smoothly as possible. No mistakes, no slip-ups, no nothing.«

Price starts, glancing over everyone before he gestures to the plan on the wall, continuing with explaining.

»We will be raiding an abusive military camp for children, takiing the kids to a safe place, and taking the bastards who are responsible for this with us. This is underage children we are talking about. Innocent souls, who are forced to get trained and sent on unnecessary dangerous missions. We’ll make sure the people behind it learn their lesson.«

Laswell looks around the small group, spotting you immediately. Her gaze is cold, but she doesn’t seem to be the type to throw glares without reason. She seems even tense. You’re aware she works for the CIA, doing most of the research and planning for the mission the team goes to eventually. Maybe that’s why she is staring at you, not used to a new member in the task force. But then again, she shouldn’t feel like that, considering how professional she must be.

»Camp is located in Urzikstan, Riyazabbi. It’s where Farah grew up, so she’ll be helping us out on it.«

Finally, she averts her eyes from you and clicks to the next slide of the small power point, presenting a map of Urzikstan with red scribbles on it. You listen intently to the whole briefing, growing more and more sick on the inside. Standing beside Ghost by the table, you can only hope no one notices your growing anxiety.

»To be more exact, in the Old Town, near the Low Town. Farah will be leading our way for the mission, making sure the children get escorted safely. Your mission is to get the bad guys.« She switches to another slide, a planned-out map from the base of the camp, »Most of them should be on the top floor, as well as the documents we need to find out what other stuff they’re hiding… and get the evidence.«

You take a deep breath looking at the map, feeling your stomach churn. Laswell steps away, leaning her hands on the table as she glances around the team once more.

»Gaz and Price will be paired up to keep watch and take out the guards. Soap, Ghost you both will storm in and clear the building out, sparing the children inside.«

She straightens her back and looks over you again, continuing with telling each their role for the upcoming mission.

»You’ll be with Farah, behind Ghost and Soap. Focus on escorting the children from the outside.«

Gaz glances at you from across the table, noticing your paleness. He keeps his eyes on you for a moment before he looks back to the power point, studying the map and listening to the rest of the briefing.

Ghost on your side notices your shift as well, nudging you lightly against your shoulder. You finally snap back, glancing up at him, almost disoriented. He gives you a questioning look, Price interrupting the exchange.

»Any questions?«

Ghost, the twat he is, nods and mentions towards you.

»Ya seem like you know something. Explain?«

Meanwhile, you’re still processing what the mission is about, your heart pounding in your chest and mind racing.

The small group watches you, slightly concerned about your sudden silence. It’s not unusual you are more reserved, but now it seems different. Price shifts on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest, and calls out your name.

»That’s my camp.«

You spit out bluntly, granting a shocked look from each. Laswell exchanges a look with Price giving a small nod. The silence in the briefing room is deafening, making you hear your own pulse in your ears.

»Holy shite...« Soap grumbles under his breath, making you exhale slowly to calm yourself down.

Captain Price shifts again, taking a step towards you as he holds up one hand.

»Now, I know this will be difficult for you, but I believe you are strong and capable enough to handle it, and even more.«

He motivates you, trying not to scare you off and reassure you. Suddenly it’s very tight in the room; everyone stares at you and makes you feel pressured. What are you supposed to do? Should you go along with the mission or call it quits after everything? You finally thought you could escape your camp and never see the commanders or the other soldiers again. What if you fail everyone and lose everything again?

»Ye knew about this?« Soap’s agitated voice rings through the room, slicing right through the soft tone of the captain.

»At first, no one knew, Soap. We couldn’t have known if it wasn’t in her file.«

»Of course, it wasn’t.« He scoffs, his tone growing more exasperated. Price shoots him a warning glare before he focusses back on you.

»You need to stay strong for this one. We need you for this mission, both for your strength and knowledge. You are a strong asset to us.«

He explains calmly, turning more towards you as he does. Price could go on about why he thinks you are perfect for this mission, but the rest of the team needs to process it themselves and consider his words. It’s true; because of your own experience from the camp it makes it easier to gain more intel on the whole organisation. On the other hand, this feels like they ask too much. There’s no way you’ll go back there to save the others.

Laswell breaks the visible tension in the room and speaks up, keeping her calm.

»This is important for everyone; however, I do think you need to get the chance to choose yourself. Do you want to join the mission?«

The question hangs heavy in the air, making you almost overwhelmed with it. After several tension-filled seconds, you have decided it.

»Yes. I will join on the mission.«

She nods back in acknowledgement, taking a small step back from the table. Somehow, the tension in the room leaves slowly, as does your pounding in your chest. You realise how serious and difficult this will be, already feeling like this will take years off your lifespan. Maybe that was exaggerated, but that’s literally how it feels right now.

You’ve never seen Soap so distressed before, even now when he has calmed down and wears an uneasy expression on his face. It’s your own, choice and you chose to actually participate in that difficult mission. There’s nothing they can do but work alongside you.

----

The briefing is over, and now it is time to prepare for the upcoming mission, needing to prepare some bags since this requires travelling to get to Urzikstan.

You feel a big hand on your shoulder, which makes you look to your right, seeing Ghost like before.

»Wanna feed Riley?« A firm squeeze is felt on your shoulde before he lets go, waiting on your answer. You simply nod, finally getting out of your distracted stare.

Soon enough, you find yourself in his office with Riley munching off from your palm again. She is calmer today, as if sensing something might be wrong or someone’s mood is down. Ghost is sitting next to the K9, silently petting her back before speaking up.

»What actually happened in that camp?«

His cold gaze is fixated on you, but not with the usual cold-hearted eyes. There seems to be an underlying understanding behind them as he studies you.

»Like…« you trail off, considering what he might want to know, »the abusive training or the raid missions?«

»How ‘bout we start at the beginnin’?«

You nod slightly, watching Riley lick your palm clean while you think of how to start talking about your past. Eventually, you start talking about the separation from your parents, the big explosion that came with, and how rough the soldiers were with children like you. About the endless training back then. The torturous amount of hours spent with nothing but improving yourself with elder commanders criticising and correcting every minor mistake. The nights spent training by yourself until morning, just for the seniors to ruin every single thing. Then you go on about the missions, mostly telling him about your own and briefly explaining the system to him.

»We were grouped into classes by our skills. The lower you are, the more likely you’ll have to go on a suicide mission. I was high class, meaning I was mostly either a sniper or went to raids. And doing night patrol.«

He listens intently, almost as if he tries to commit every word said to memory. Ghost lets you talk, not interrupting you a single time as you open up. Riley licks at your hand the whole time, making you try to swat your hand away from her, but she keeps nuzzling her nose against your hands.

»They said it’s to ‘protect our country and make our loved ones proud‘, but after a while I also noticed how much bullshit they’re trying to sell us. Once I got here, I started to realise how wrong the camp was. It feels like they robbed everything from me.«

You stare at Riley as you talk, trying to get back into the right lane and not let your emotions take over. Riley is still trying to lick at your hands but gave up and just rests her jaw in your two hands, occasionally looking at you as you speak.

»There wasn’t really anything different to do but train and fight. We would get punished or sent away if we made too many mistakes or misbehaved. God forbid we tried to escape.«

You finally pet Riley’s head carefully in your hands, being mindful not to put too much pressure on her and gently trying out how far you can go with her. She continues to sit calmly in front of you, letting you do your thing on her.

Ghost listens and glances down at his dog as well, noticing how fast you got used to her already. He shifts and speaks up, your words staying in his mind.

»Sure was hell of a shit ‘ole. But, you’re sure you will get revenge on them with us?«

He asks again, making sure if you didn’t just agree on the mission, because you felt like you had to, in front of them. You nod in response confidently, being sure nothing bad will happen with them by your side.

»I’m sure I can do it.« Ghost nods back in response, glad to see a positive attitude from you. Riley opened her mouth again, making her tongue stick out and breath louder. You let go of her head and glance to Ghost, noticing his eyes crinkle underneath his mask. Or that could be you imagining things also. He gets off the ground, and you follow shortly after, looking down to the friendly K9. She stares right back at you, her ears up and tail waggling slightly from side to side. You give her a final rub on her head before exiting his office, returning back into your own bunk to prepare for the training.

----

Training hall, 16:00, two days before the mission

You‘re glad you are all training today, needing to get your mind off everything that was discussed earlier. While warming your muscles up, Soap and Gaz join finally too, also ready for the sparring. This time, you‘d need to spar with Ghost, having been sparring with mostly Soap before. He gets ready in the stance, muscles tense and knees lightly bent. Ghost tells you to strike first, which you do shortly later.

The round begins with you attacking him to his side, but he is quick to counterattack with a punch of his own. And that punch sure was powerful. Is he trying to maul you? Going on, it‘s an exchange of attacks and counterttacks, blocked hits, and dodged kicks. To be completely honest, it‘s fun sparring with Ghost. He is not holding back, making it clear he is going to teach you something while training. And in reality, Ghost is indeed trying to prepare you more for the long mission in just two days. There is an underlying fear in him that he won‘t be admitting to anyone.

Focus still being on the mission, you‘re having a hard time keeping up with him. Thinking about the camp, the rude commanders and needing to rescue your comrades from the camp… It is getting a lot in your head. That‘s why sparring right now is such a good distraction, but obviously, it is not doing much at the moment.

Meanwhile, Ghost doesn‘t understand how you can be so quick and keep up with his strong attacks, trying to analyse your movements and figure your weak point out. After a few more moments, though, you already figured out his own. His left knee is weak, however, kicking against him is mostly a trap, as he takes the opportunity to yank on your ankle and make you fall. Obviously you didn‘t fall. Just stumbled.

Gaz watches as he takes a small break with Soap, seeing you both being cheeky fighters. Both trying to hit the other‘s weak points as much as possible. Both looking very focused on the task.

»Who do ye think will win?« Soap questions beside him, also watchig your sparring round.

»Hard to tell… they still seem full of energy.« Gaz mumbles back, focused on watching the fight go on. There‘s a moment of silence before Soap speaks up again.

»Wanna bet?« Gaz groans quietly and side-eyes his teammate, having lost the last bet with him just last week.

At the same time, you are both pretty much sparring like before. But it is getting harder to focus on the task again, while your mind is in a completely different world. It‘s gotten to a point where you‘re blocking a lot of hits and mostly taking them while having a hard time striking back. At the same time, you are too stubborn to give up just yet. The mission and all the thoughts about your camp are making you think rational and making you overwork. A sudden wave of frustration washes over you, and Ghost isn‘t that strong of an opponent anymore.

With a strong kick to his side, he has no chance to trick you again before you land a series of punches to his chest area. He huffs and grunts, trying to dodge them but with no luck. Your attacks are stronger now, making Ghost stumble back and block a few of your punches. The sudden action doesn‘t go missed by him at all, it makes him wonder where it all came from. It seemed like you were giving up a second ago, but now you‘re coming back stronger.

Wherever it came from, isn‘t as important for now. The skin at your knuckles is red again, and your expression is dark. He quickly realises and feels the need to step in. With you being so out of the wind from the meeting is something he knows all too well.

He launches forward, but instead of striking an attack, he wraps his large arms around you tightly, forcing himself to bite back a grunt at your attempt to punch him again. The hug is tighter than any hug you‘ve received, but you also didn‘t get many hugs before.

There‘s an instant halt in your movements and you simply freeze, having no idea how this just happened. Being in someone else‘s arms is something you haven‘t experienced a lot. And this doesn‘t certainly feel soothing, but also not forceful either.

»You‘re pushing yourself. Stop that.«

He gruffly tells you and finally lets go, looking over your face. You don‘t say much, just staring back at him and finally exhaling the breath you didn‘t realise you held in. Gaz and Soap exchange a look but don‘t say anything, continuing to spar together while keeping an eye on you both.

Finally, his words sank in, and you nodded in response. »Sorry, I won‘t.« You mumble back, earning a rather sceptical look from him. He just gives you a small grunt in response and mentions for you to strike in again.

For the rest of the training session, it is just Ghost grounding you and making sure you don‘t get lost in your thoughts again. Which surprisingly helps, but also gets exhausting after some while. The other pair just goes on with their own sparring match, eventually fighting like two cats who hate each other, and mostly fighting on the floor, both too stubborn to end the fight.

Eventually, Ghost finally decides to cut you some slack, as well as for the other two teammates, who beat the shit out of the other the entire time. Showertime before dinner, finally getting to some kind of rest before it is time to pack some stuff for the deployment into Urzikstan.

After the quick shower, you head to the mess hall and run into Ghost on the way. Thank God, he has the Capri Sun already and hands it to you. But not without saying something too.

»You fought well today. But you seemed distracted.« It‘s a gentle demand to spill the beans, but this doesn‘t seem like something you should talk about in the first place. It doesn‘t seem important enough. You simply shrug, looking to the Caprie Sun in your hands. Cherry flavoured.

»I was just somewhere else. The camp… the meeting just made me distracted.«

You answer back, cringing secretly at yourself for saying too much. But to your surprise, he doesn‘t even react to your words and studies you briefly.

»Wanna talk about it? I can listen.«

To no one‘s surprise, you deny the offer, even when you trust Ghost a lot by now. The only thing you want now, is some semi-warm cantine food and the sweet drink in your hands.

----

Packing an extra bag for Urzikstan wasn‘t as confusing as it may seem, but maybe nine pocket knifes are just enough to keep you safe. Fou of them are regular pocket knifes everyone else has, the other five being various ones, you either got or found somewhere. The biggest one is about the size of your whole hand with the blade out, also your favourite one by far. You found it somewhere in a desert during a solo mission.

Next, is your small sketchbook, of course. And your pencil, that needs to be sharpened again. The most important item goes deep into the smaller bag, making sure it won‘t get lost by any means. A polaroid picture of yourself and another girl, together, smiling. The sun is low, casting a warm and soft tint to everything, making you both look even more stunning.

Then, of course, some dog treats you stole from Ghost‘s office for Riley, since he mentioned taking the K9 on the mission. You are actually a little surprised that he didn‘t notice you sneaking some into your pocket while feeding Riley and explaining your camp to Ghost.

Finally it‘s all settled and you are ready for bed. Once again, it takes up some time to fall asleep, the mission still heavy in mind. But you get to it after approximately two hours.

You wake up to your mother screaming for you, the air feeling thick and loaded. The sharp pain around your wrists are a reminder of the ties around them, keeping you from escaping as your ankles are tied together as well; connected to the other set of children that are now taking hostage. Another yell before a sharp thud grabs your attention, looking over to where you think your mother just screamed from. The first instinct is to scream for her and beg, feeling the steady rise of panic and anxiety going up in you terrifyingly fast. Soon, it‘s nothing but a sea of screams around you, while you are the quietest one. But you are screaming your lungs out, why are you so quiet?

A sudden white light breaks out, blinding both your sight and sounds around you. The surprise doesn‘t last long, as all you can make out is darkness and disoriented voices, talking in unintelligible words over each other. It feels like something is trying to suck you out of the ground, but you‘re trying to fight it, eventually getting shocked with light hitting your face yet again. It‘s softer this time, but it quickly turns into a big, dark cloud of smoke.

Breathing is getting harder again, but before you know it, there is someone helping you up and guiding you somewhere firmly. Looking to your right, you see a familiar face again, and all your worries seem to disappear for a brief moment. The girl beside you is helping you get away from the explosion as fast as possible, suddenly realising why this feels so familiar and real.

Waking up with cold sweat yet again in an ungodly hour has happened before. Sighing out, you focus on calming your racing heart down before you can attempt to fall asleep once more. Actually, no, you won‘t be attempting to sleep tonight. Not after a flashback like this one.

a/n: the next part will be out probably by next week, please be patient.... but I can assure you, the next part is going to be awesome-sauce. You'll get to experience Farah Kari-

Hope you enjoyed it!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Navigation || AU Masterlist || All images & fictional characters go to their respective owners. All bios barring Keegan and Hesh are taken directly from in-game. They are not mine.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE MASTERLIST || Total Works : 22

╰┈➤❝ [Captain in the 22nd SAS and commander of Task Force 141. Peerless combat tracker. Elite seek-and-strike expert. Specializing in unconventional warfare, Price is a target-focused war fighter who deploys a cut to the chase lethality.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

LIEUTENANT SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY MASTERLIST || Total Works : 12

╰┈➤❝ [An expert in clandestine tradecraft, sabotage and infiltration. He lives with a redacted past and an undercover present, marked by a concealed appearance to hide his identity and maintain anonymity in the field.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

SERGEANT KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK MASTERLIST || Total Works : 4

╰┈➤❝ [Sergeant in the SAS. Recruited by Captain Price to Task Force 141 after operations in Urzikstan and Borjomi. Expertise in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance, and VIP protection.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

SERGEANT JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH MASTERLIST || Total Works : 5

╰┈➤❝ [The youngest recruit to pass SAS selection, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish is known as a perpetual FNG, a label he wears as a badge of honor. A confident, instinctive CQB expert, Soap was handpicked by Price for TF-141.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

ALEX KELLER MASTERLIST || (COD: MW 2019) || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [Former CIA SAD turned Warcom ground branch asset. Specialized training to infiltrate enemy lines and survive in inhospitable conditions. Charged with desertion after joining Farah to topple Barkov's regime in Urzikstan.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

SERGEANT KEEGAN P. RUSS MASTERLIST || (COD: GHOSTS) || Total Works : 5

╰┈➤❝ [Former member of the USMC and one of the original fifteen to survive Operation Sand Viper in 2005. Currently a Scout Sniper for Task Force: STALKER, also known as Ghosts.] ❞

LIEUTENANT DAVID 'HESH' WALKER MASTERLIST || (COD: GHOSTS) || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [Son of Elias 'Scarecrow' Walker and brother to Logan Walker. Joined the U.S. Special Forces after the ODIN strikes in 2017. Fought in the Federation War. Handler to his MWD, Riley.] ❞

KÖNIG MASTERLIST || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [König suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life, often being bullied during his childhood. At the age of 17, he volunteered for the military.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

NIKTO MASTERLIST || Total Works : 3

╰┈➤❝ [Nikto is a former undercover agent of the FSB. At one point he was captured and tortured by Victor Zakhaev, leading to his face becoming disfigured. He constantly wears a mask to hide his injuries.] ❞

— In-Game Biography

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

More of You, Pt. 1

Direct continuation from the fic Wildflower! I'd recommend reading it first before this one (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Part 2

One month since Ghost got deployed, one month since their 'date' got postponed, until Laswell called Jade to tell her that he'd gone missing in action.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC)

Word Count : ~ 7.8k words (I overdid it but idc lmao)

Warning : some angst with flufff don't worry, some whump, light gore, hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Prompt : There's only one bed oop

Title and story inspired by the song with the same title by JP Saxe!

*****

“Ghost, give me a sitrep now!” 

“Watcher-1, things are not lookin’ good-- They found me.”

“We cannot get you an exfil in that area. You need to lose them first. Get out of there right now!”

“My ammo’s runnin’ out… I can’t lose them—”

“Ghost, do you copy?!

“Ghost!”

---

It's been two months since Simon told her that he's going out of the country to go on a mission. It's honestly crazy how much she missed him already, considering the fact that they were not even a couple yet. Jade couldn't even fathom how much his presence, or at least his mere existence in the same country, meant to her. Two months felt so long. Too long. 

No one to call her names, no one to ask her to go explore London culinaries, no one to go thrifting with (for Ghost's lack of variety of wardrobe), no one to have a drink while stargazing.

And no one to hug. 

Well, not that she ever hugged him for more than 2 seconds anyway. Ghost was certainly not a hugger. The only times they hug were after each… 'date', they'd come in contact for a short hug, before Ghost took off. 

He must've hated hugs. 

Jade sighed, resting her chin on her palm at the Le Jardin floristry counter.

It was a slow day. There were a few pre-orders, but there weren't even 15 clients that came in. One hour until the shop closes, and Jade was the only person at the shop. Her employees had left, while her parents were on a trip to Asia. Honestly, it miffed her, because now her mind was full of Ghost and Ghost only.

Where is he?, she wondered. 

The ringtone of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Jade reached for her phone on the counter, and Laswell's name was written on the screen. She raised her eyebrow at the sight, thinking of what else the CIA agent had in store for her after Jade clearly told her that she was retired. 

Rolling her eyes, Jade tapped the green button and put the phone on her ear, "Kate, you can't just call me whenever you run out of people to send out–"

"Ghost is MIA."

Not even a second later, her legs brought her to the front door before she flipped the tag from 'Open' to 'Closed'. "For how long?"

"Yesterday." Laswell's calm voice continued on the phone, "Ghost going dark is not an uncommon occurrence. He's used to it, and all this time he always comes back, but the situation was awry."

"What happened before he went MIA?" Jade switched the light off, climbed the stairs to reach her room and quickly opened her drawer to change into 'proper' clothes. 

"We had an intel about a hidden drug stash in South America. There was a suspicion that it might be related to the Las Almas drug cartel. After months of tracking, Ghost then found a hidden facility. He went to investigate, but it appeared that his position was compromised, and the last thing we know, he was being chased by the Narcos before the radio cut off." The CIA agent explained, her tone was stable, yet there was a tinge of guilt in them. "I fear he might be in a dangerous situation, or worse."

Zipping up her turtleneck, Jade then walked to her father's study, obtaining the key to open the discreet stash of weapons behind the shelves. 

"Price and Gaz are with Farah in Urzikstan, while Soap is halfway around the globe on another mission." 

She took her plate carrier, her karambit knives and their holsters, plus her firearms along with the ammo. 

“I apologize to you, Jade. I truly do. But you're our best tracker, and I know what he means to you, so I notified you first.”

Putting all the necessary pieces of equipment into a duffle bag, Jade then lifted the bag downstairs, moving fast to the backdoor and made her way to her sedan, sitting in the driver’s seat. 

“Your wheels are up in 3 hours and I'll brief you more on the way. Are you up for this?”

“Brief me now.”

-----

The facility was deep in the middle of a rainforest. Made of cement, hidden by the tall trees of South America, it was a well-hidden building, obviously far out of the public eye.

Hiding behind the tall bushes and her steps covered by the pouring rain, it was relatively easy for her to take a tour around the building to scout the area. Jade could at least count 12 armed guards outside, guarding the many sides of the building. They rotate the place constantly every hour, occasionally talking into their radio for reports. 

Twelve was a ton of people for the building’s size, almost too much. They were in the middle of a rainforest and far from any city. The only reason they need this much guard out would be a whole pack of hungry jaguars. 

However, judging by the number of Narcos' dead bodies that Jade had encountered in the mud along the way, the reason for the many guards was definitely not big cats.

Ghost. 

He must’ve stealthily killed his way in, and somehow he got noticed by a guard, and they started to hunt him down with guns blazing.

Jade swallowed. The only thing she was relieved about was the fact that none of those lifeless bodies was Ghost’s. It had been 4 days since Laswell lost contact with him. Ghost being captured had the highest possibility at this point, as the guards might not be placed to guard against who’s outside. 

But to contain who’s inside. 

"Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4, twelve armed guards on the exterior. I'm thinking of infiltrating them from the south side of the building." Jade spoke with a low voice to her PTT, preparing herself to go in, picturing every single step of her feet towards the building, every motion of her limbs to reach the point of entrance.

"Copy that, Sierra-4, you may proceed. Keep updating me on the situation."

Just after Laswell’s confirmation, sounds of gunshots rang from inside the building. That shocked and confused Jade as she lowered her scope which she had used to scout the area. All the guards turned around to face the building as more shots were fired from the inside. She could hear their loud chatters and shoutings through their radios, panic was written all over their faces as most of them ran inside to check the situation. 

Jade couldn’t quite hear what the guards were talking about as their voices were muffled by the rain, but one thing she could clearly hear in Spanish was,

‘The prisoner escaped!’

Ghost was fighting his way out.

"Watcher-1, I hear gunshots from the inside. I suspect it's Ghost." Jade spoke with urgency in her voice.

"Copy that, Sierra-4. It's your move. You need to go in and help him." Laswell replied.

"Way ahead of ya."

"Good luck." 

She scoffed, half-afraid and half-amused, taking aim with her rifle again as the guards were lowered to five. It was equipped with a suppressor, and taking out the dumbfounded guards outside was an easy fit. Their heads exploded upon impact with her bullets before collapsing to the ground, leaving the exterior unguarded. It was finally time for her to get inside.

To finally see him. 

'See you tomorrow, Lottie.'

Ghost had said before he softly kissed her on her cheek, promising to ice skate and eat Korean barbecue with her on the 15th of February, only for her to be left disappointed when she received a text from him the next morning that he’ll be going on a mission. This mission. 

Jade gritted her teeth at the memory, "I'm going in."

Rushing forward to the entrance of the building, She used her feet to silently press herself to the cement walls, the sound of gunshots was still going, albeit muffled. It’s like the sounds were coming from below. 

Basement.

Loading her HK416, Jade infiltrated the area. She perceived at least four armed people in the main room, all looking towards one particular hallway while muttering nervously in Spanish, which she immediately suspected was the way to where Ghost was. Throwing a stun grenade inside, five bodies quickly fell to the ground from her shots.

Suddenly, another group of armed narcos came out of another room from the northern side, opening fire towards Jade while she was reloading. A bullet went past her shoulder, the sound of it ripping the air around it left a ringing sound on her ear. She could do nothing but quickly hide herself from the incoming rain of bullets behind a wall. The narcos emptied their mags like their fingers were glued to the trigger. It seemed like they were not properly trained.

When they were reloading, Jade took another flashbang and threw the can to the middle of the group. Quickly canting her aim, her rifle couldn't pick a better time to be jammed, prompting her to curse and switch to the pistol on her hips on the right and picked up her karambit blade with her left. 

While the guards were stunned, it became muscle memory from there. Taking out three front-most people with the gun, using another as a shield from the incoming aimless fire, slitting the throat, and then  another Narco in the face with the butt of the gun before forcing her blade up to the under jaw.

Having cleared the main room, Jade huffed, quickly fixing the jammed rifle, and proceeded by silently going even further into the building. 

There was a long hallway with a number of doors along them. Jade smacked one door open, only to see white-coloured blocks of drugs on a table, and judging from the colour, cocaine must be the identity of the drug. She checked each and every one of the doors and found the same things. This building was a drug warehouse; a place where the drugs were stored before their export or distribution for sale. At first, she couldn’t discern for sure if this facility was indeed owned by the Las Almas drug cartel, but when she looked upon the notable stamp of El Sin Nombre’s skull, her doubt vanished.

Jade then moved further into the hallway and reached an intersection, where another set of gunshots and screams found her ears. Her legs brought her closer to the noise, finding a stairway downwards to the basement area. She quickly descended the stairs, finding herself surrounded by a dirty, poorly dug tunnel. Nevertheless, the ex-MI6 focused on her objective and ran to the source of the sound, when she finally reached the source of all the ruckus.

She turned from a corner with her aim up on an intersection, finding Ghost with his mask on, fighting four men at once, below them were the bodies of Narcos that he had killed prior. With a knife in one hand and his own pistol in the other, he stabbed a Narco in the neck and used his body as a shield from the incoming bullets. He then threw the knife straight at his assaulter’s face as Jade saw the other two taking aim at him. Upon reflex, Jade shot down the remaining Narcos, leaving Ghost the one standing alone in the tunnel seemingly dumbfounded at what just happened right in front of him.

With relief washing over her, Jade rushed towards Ghost, finding him still standing, still fighting, still alive. “Ghost!”

Only to be welcomed by the barrel of his gun aiming straight at her. 

Before Ghost could pull his trigger, Jade’s reflex kicked in and defeated her own sadness and sorrow of not seeing him for more than two months, and leapt to his side, grabbing the barrel of the firearm away from her. She then used her speed and abundance of energy to kick his ankle strong enough to push Ghost off his balance. He fell down to the ground with a loud thud on his back. Jade kicked the pistol out of his hand, before putting her whole weight to press on his entire figure. 

Still, Ghost was known for his superior combat ability and survival instinct. His hand found another knife on his hip holster, ready to stab the person who was holding him down.

“Simon!” 

The sound of his first name stopped his knife on its track, stopping right beside her neck – a few mere inches before blood could’ve been spilt. And just after he heard his name, he felt a soft touch on his uninjured cheek. 

Jade had opened his mask, revealing his face in the open. With how skilled and lethal Ghost was as an operator, she never thought she’d ever see Ghost in this state. His left cheek and eye were swollen, and there were traces of blood running down his temple. Even though black in colour, his clothes had darker spots where only blood could stain them. He had his plate carrier and his knife holsters on, but they too were stained with blood. 

And his eyes, it was filled with rampage, pure anger and wild want for blood. Yet it was unfocused, like a blind beast ready to get rid of anyone standing in his way. 

Imprisonment. Torture. 

“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here for you. You’re okay.” He blinked a number of times, and the red fog that had been clouding his vision disappeared, finding the face of the woman he loved right above him.

“You’re okay now. I’m here. Please, it’s over, Simon.” Her shaky voice continued, desperation filling her tone. Her green eyes were already brimming with tears threatening to fall down. “It’s over.” She breathed, hoping that somehow, her voice could bring him back.

“...Midget?” 

Hearing her nickname in his deep, hoarse voice was all the sign she needed. Ghost lowered his knife, and before he knew it, Jade dropped down to hug Ghost tightly, burying her face in his shoulders. She sobbed into the side of her neck, grasping his clothes with her fingers in relief. Finally, finally, he’s back in her arms. After days of anxious and dark thoughts about losing the only man she’s ever allowed herself to love, he’s finally here, in her arms.

However, that relief was short-lived as Ghost grabbed her shoulders and lifted her smaller figure away from him. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ HERE?!” 

That response startled her, “WH– I’M HERE TO SAVE YOU, YOU BIG BOZO!”

“YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE!”

Jade then wrestled her way out of Ghost’s weak hands, “YOU WENT MIA FOR DAYS!”

“FUCKIN’ HELL–” Trying to sit up abruptly turned out to be a big mistake as a sharp pain burst out from his side, making him grunt out loud. Noticing this, Jade held him up before he fell back down to the floor. She then glanced to his side, and there, she caught sight of a fresh graze wound on his side. Observing him further, she found a crudely tied, blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. Judging by the sight of it, this might be the lucky shot that had subdued Ghost and made the Narcos manage to capture him. 

Nevertheless, they needed to get out of this building before reinforcements arrived. Seeing the condition he was in, he'll need some assistance to even stand now. fighting off the reinforcement would be impossible. “This warehouse – where’s the supervisor?”

“I gutted him.” He growled, hatred filling his voice. She could easily deduce that the supervisor was the one who had been inflicting these wounds to him.

And so, she used all her strength to lift and help Ghost stand up. "Can you walk?" 

"I can–" he stumbled to the wall, using his pained arms to support himself up. "Fuck…" It had been four days since he went MIA. That meant four days of badly treated wounds, blood spilling from the tortures, and no food. Still, he managed to escape and fight his way out, leaving dead bodies as his footsteps.

Such mental fortitude was something to be feared indeed.

"Alright, come 'ere, Big Man." Jade sneaked her hand behind his back and circled his arm around her shoulder before assisting him to quickly walk out of the damned warehouse. To hell with these drugs and the people inside. 

"Watcher-1, this is Sierra-4.” Pressing the PTT, Jade contacted the CIA. “I've secured Bravo 0-7. I repeat, Bravo 0-7 is secured."

—------

Prior to arriving at the warehouse, Jade had located a rickety old cabin inside the forest. It was placed near a river far away from the warehouse. Though it’s not fully hidden, it worked well as a resting place for the night as it was pretty deep inside the forest, and of course, because there’s no way that the man that she was currently holding up could walk all the way to the nearby city. 

Stepping into the wooden floors of the cabin, Jade glanced to the side where she found a single bed placed on the edge of the room. “There’s a bed there. Let’s get you down.” Straining her voice from holding Ghost’s weight for the entire 30-minute walk there, she finally sat Ghost down on the bed before he collapsed to his back, panting heavily and clearly out of fuel.

“Fuck… I’m beat.” He managed to breathe out with his sore voice.

“Here, drink some water. Drink all of it since we have a river in front.” Jade gave her own canteen to him, to which he chugged down to the last drop while still lying down. 

In the meantime, Jade tinkered with her radio, pressing down on her PTT to contact Laswell.

“Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4 do you copy?” 

Not long, the radio buzzed, “Sierra-4 this is Watcher-1, send traffic.” 

“We’re currently holed up in an old cabin near a river about four clicks northwest of the warehouse. His radio was destroyed by a bullet, so that might be why his comms suddenly disappeared.”

A loud sigh of relief could be heard on the radio, “That’s great news. How is he looking?” 

She took a glance at Ghost, who was still laying back while covering his eyes with the back of his hand. “Beat. But alive. Very lean. Injuries and wounds all over. He’d worn his mask when I found him, but…” A thought had been weighing on her mind the whole way they walked to the cabin. “If he got captured, then the first thing the Narcos did was obviously to take off his mask. Is his identity compromised now?”

“No. It’s still the same as ever. Even if they saw his face - as long as Ghost didn’t give out his name - there’s no record of his face anywhere. Every earlier visual identity had also been redacted.” Jade raised her eyebrows. So that’s how he maintained his anonymity all this time. 

“That sounds like him. Anyway, we’re pretty deep in the woods. Sun’s going down, and the nearest town is around 15 kilos from here. I think we need to lay low for a while.” 

“Copy that. I’ll see what I can do for your exfil, I’ll be in touch. You guys should rest for a while.” Laswell finally said, a tone of calm in her voice. “And thank you so much, Jade. I’m sorry for dragging you back again.”

Jade could only scoff at that. “It’s fine. Besides, if you’d sent out anyone else to find him… I’d be a wee~ bit offended.” 

“Oh? Is this what I think it is?” She could clearly hear the wide smile on the CIA agent’s face.

“I’m gonna go patch the big man up now. Sierra-4 out.” Finally finishing her report with Laswell’s chuckle as the last thing she heard, Jade sighed, watching the strong and steady flow of the river below. It was freezing, but at least they had shelter. Now all she needed to do was keep Ghost alive and comfortable while keeping tabs with Laswell.

—

"Lottie, why are you here."

Ghost’s strained voice pulled Jade’s attention from the wound that she was currently treating on his shoulder. That crudely-tied bandage was not replaced at all after his capture and left a terrible-looking injury, which by the look of it, was obviously infected that when she’d pulled it, the skin that already tried to heal got pulled along with it.

"What? I thought I said to you already. Your radio cut off abruptly, so Laswell sent me out to find you." Jade answered, still dabbing cotton onto the lacerated skin caused by the bullet.

"Fuckin' hell…" 

That tone irked her. "You sound like you don't want me here."

"That's right! I do NOT want you here!" Ghost yelled to her, making her lean back on the chair she was sitting on and stopped what she was doing. His angered face was a new sight for her.

"What?! Are you telling me to just stay back while I know you were captured?!"

“Laswell knew for a fact that this was not my first time going MIA. She did not have to tell you about it because as you could see, I got out on my own.” He told her harshly, that tone starting to aggravate her.

“You were missing! Can’t you see that I was worried for you?!” Jade countered, trying to keep her composure while he palmed his face in visible frustration, “More than two months you’ve been gone for a mission alone, and now that I finally have news about you, I was told that your radio cut off with gunshots!” 

“You should’ve just stayed home and get on with your days. I never asked for you to come here.” Gravely he told her as he saw Jade’s eyes start to turn sombre. Those words came out of his mouth on their own.

Deep inside, Ghost knew what was coming – He needed to stop himself.

“I found you battered and bruised, Simon! You can’t just expect me to–”

"I don't need you to save me!”  He raised his voice harshly, shocking her. 

No. That was not what he wanted to say. 

He knew; he truly knew it was the opposite. 

He didn't want her to get hurt.

"I don't need you!” 

Her face was everything he needed to know that he fucked up. Ghost saw her face turn to dread like her heart just got stabbed a thousand times over, that after everything she did, after everything she felt – it was only for him to tell her those words. 

For a moment the only thing they heard was the pouring rain outside. 

Before Ghost saw the woman in front of him grit her teeth, seeming like she chose to not believe what he just said.

“There were at least a dozen armed guards outside! What did you think you could do with those wounds?!" It was her turn to raise her voice, “If I hadn't been there to find you, what could you do with a gun an a knife?!"

It was the last thing that snapped him. Ghost ignored all the pain in his arms to grab onto her shoulders, 

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU!” 

And just like that, Jade gasped as she blinked. His grasp on her shoulder felt firm yet shaky, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the searing pain or from the emotion he felt, as this is the first time she saw Ghost with that expression. Maskless, bruises all over, bloodshot eyes brimming with tears, and a face that had desperation and sorrow painted all over it.

He started with a low voice, but the emotions in his words still remained, “You’ve left this life for a reason, Lottie. And for a good one. Think of your mother, your father, your friends, who love you and care for you! What if you get hurt alone inside this fucking rainforest?! What if you die, huh?! What do I say to your parents?!"

"What if you die?!" Jade countered, trying to make sense of his words.

"I don't fucking care if I die!"

"You say that as if no one is waiting for you to come home! I DO!” Jade grabbed both of his hands from her shoulders, gathering them with her own. ”I love you!"

Her action surprised Ghost, but more than anything, the last three words felt like an epiphany. 

"You think Kate should've just shut up about it and left me in the dark?! Well, that's just fucking stupid, Ghost. If you think that you did this for me, then you're wrong!” She shouted bitterly, her scowl taking over her face in such a way that it looked out of place, tears already brimming in her eyes. 

"You think I didn't know that your missions are dangerous? I know that! That's why I can't just stand back while I know I have the full capability to find you! If it means that I can finally have you back, then to hell with my retirement! Great, now I'm crying!" All that stress and frustration of finding him these last four days came out of her in the form of tears streaming down her cheek. The thought of finding him beaten up, all bloody, or even worse, lifeless on the ground had been eating her mind. Nevertheless, she moved her body to find him, clinging to a desperate hope that he was still alive somehow. 

Ghost could only watch as Jade buried her face in her palms, her sobs muffled by her hands. "We had a date, Simon…" That sentence felt like a thousand knives impaling his heart. He remembered being very excited that early morning, anticipating the ‘date’ with her. He remembered himself being so happy and delighted for the date, heck, he even fucking looked through his wardrobe to find the best fit for the occassion, only to be left feeling empty when he suddenly got a call to go on a mission. He could still recall how shaky his hands were when texting Jade that he couldn’t make it for the date.

"I was waiting for it. It's my first date, ever. So I'm sorry if I'm a little excited to see you, alright?" Jade raised her head to face him again, revealing her messy hair, red eyes, and cheeks smeared by tears. “I can’t lose you too."

Ghost didn't know if it was because of his courage or something else, but he moved his hand and put it right above hers, gently enveloping her hands. "I don't want you to get hurt, especially because of me." He started, looking softly into her eyes, "I'm sorry." 

Hearing that broke something in him, as for once in his life, someone waited for him to come home. Someone wanted him to be fine, and it felt… foreign.

Now, that person was sitting before him. The woman he loved, and the one who loved him back, more than he deserved. 

The fact that Ghost initiated the touch made butterflies fly wildly inside her stomach. The temperature of his skin was quite alarming though, so she kept that in mind. "Well thank you, for your consideration, but please,” Jade lifted her arm to wipe her face from the tears aggressively, sniffing her nose. “I can't have you just promise me a date one day and then disappear the next. I won't let you ghost me." Her lips pouted in a way that made him chuckle. He might go crazy if she kept doing this. "If it means finding you, then getting hurt is nothing. If you went MIA again, then I will go out and find you again."

Ghost still felt the pain all over his body, that argument took all the spare energy that he got. Meanwhile, Jade took the sewing kit from the side table, getting them ready to close Ghost's laceration. 

"Also, put some credit on my name, alright? You know I can take care of myself, Ghost." Jade muttered while taking the forceps.

"I almost stabbed you though." He replied.

"Ah." That only occurred to her now. When he was fighting off the Narcos, he thought she was an enemy and launched a knife straight to her neck. "You were in full survival mode since the whole warehouse was trying to kill you. I understand." 

"Shit… what would I say to your parents if I'd killed you?" 

"Hmmm. 'Sorry, Sir, Ma'am. I killed your daughter by accident.’, and then your body would never be seen ever again, perhaps."

That got a light laugh out of him, "We're a crazy lot aren't we?"

"Damn right we are."

There was barely any alcohol to hold the pain as Jade sutured his wounds close, and even though she had mastered the medical suturing techniques, the searing pain was going to be there to stay.

All the while her hands work, she started again, "What did they do to you?"

Ghost flinched at the question. She really hoped it wasn't something too bad. From her observations, he was badly injured on the left side, which meant he must've been punched and kicked quite a lot by the Narcos. The right side had way fewer injuries, but the little lacerations on his head looked like something sharp.

He took a deep breath, "After they caught me, I was brought to the basement and they tied my hands on my back to a pole with a rope. My feet as well. They interrogated me about who I am and my ties with Alejandro Vargas. Of course I shut my mouth the entire time."

Jade still looked at him, sending him a signal that it was not was she was asking about. Ghost sighed, before answering again, "It wasn't much, just punches and kicks, splashed water on me. The leader was a huge twat though. He smashed a bottle of alcohol on my head." Ah. There's the answer to her questions.

"And I'm assuming you used the shards to cut the ropes to escape?" She inquired, her hands still working.

"Yeah."

"...You okay?"

He always hated the question, but coming from her, it felt different. Ghost knew how she had experienced the same things before considering they work on similar grounds. And if he wanted to be honest on the answer, she won't get much. "I'm mostly annoyed at their leader the whole time. Just thinking of how to get out of there." Ghost finally answered, "I've experienced far worse. If anything, they lacked creativity."

Jade sighed, not the worst answer. Either he was hiding the mental trauma or he's just that dulled to tortures. From the outside he looked fine and he acted like this was just another business day, but she could never guess what's going on inside his mind.

That last sentence made her chuckle though. "What do you think they should've done to make you speak?"

Ghost looked like he really considered it, "...To make me speak? No idea. Probably your favourite method."

"My method?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Nail-pulling."

"I--" Oh good heavens, he'd set 'nail-pulling' as her favoured method of tortures. "Okay, if and only if you have the right tools, alright."

He let out a chuckle, prompting her to laugh as well as she finished the suture on his wounds.

—---

Cleaning up Ghost's injuries was relatively easy, as he didn't have any lethal wounds that required urgent care and deep medical knowledge. Still, watching him hiss and grunt as she sewed his lacerations was hard to do. She kept mumbling soft "Sorry, sorry." to him in a vain attempt to soothe his pain. At some point, it appeared that Ghost was completely out of fuel and dozed off sitting up while she was cleaning his skin from the blood and dirt. Closing his wounds was only the first step of first-aid care because what came after could be harder to treat since he had that infected wound on his shoulder. 

He hadn't eaten in days, was completely out of energy, had a significant blood loss, bruises all over his body, and that infected wound had finally shown its damned effect: fever. 

Jade sighed. As much as he needed the rest, he needed to eat. She'd brought some antibiotic meds, but in order to have them he had to eat first. Her legs brought her to the cabinet near the end of the bed, fortunately finding a good clean sheet of the blanket. Though, it wasn't thick enough for her liking, plus it was pretty small in size and would barely cover his large frame. Beggars can’t be choosers, so she draped the cloth onto his shoulders and his legs, making sure his figure was covered.

Opening her backpack, Jade fished out two sets of MREs, along with a ration heater. With his wounds finally dressed up and he's sleeping soundly, she walked out of the cabin to the riverside, filling her canteen with fresh river water. Pouring the water into the ration heater along with the MREs inside, Jade walked back to the doorway to avoid the rain, waiting patiently as she wiped the rainwater off of her skin.

While she was letting the heating pack do its job, she sat back on the wooden floor, slowly untying her braids that had gone messy from the actions and the rain. Fully getting the braids undone, her hair finally became loose completely, falling on her shoulders, back, and chest in the most chaotic way possible that Jade had to run her hands through her thick hair to detangle the mess. 

"Lottie?"

Ghost's weak voice startled her, making her turn around and saw the man himself standing right behind her, blanket around his shoulders. “Ghost?! What– you should’ve just slept! You can’t stand just yet–” 

“Relax,” He said softly, sitting down beside her with visible struggle. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I won’t die from moving 10 steps.” 

Seeing how he coughed wetly made her pout in disagreement. She still thought he needed to stay in bed. “How are you feeling though?”

"...like death.” 

“I thought so. Your temp was concerning. May I touch your forehead? I have to feel your temp." Ghost nodded, still, her soft touch on his forehead and neck caught him off guard, as she stared at him trying to concentrate on measuring the heat of his skin. “You’re burning up! Dammit.” Jade exclaimed upon feeling the rise of his fever, it baffled her how he still had the energy to stand up with all those wounds. 

Out of nowhere, Ghost felt pressure on his chest, before realizing that it was Jade pressing her ears to his thorax. 

He froze right there and there, turning into stone like Medusa just stared him down. Ghost sucked his teeth and looked up to hold in his blush. He knew a hundred per cent that she was checking his breathing for that terrible wet cough he let out, but his brain had turned into a mush, his heart beating so fast like he just ran a fucking marathon. She definitely could hear his racing heartbeat, but no matter how much he tried to tell his heart to stop fucking beating like there's a whole damned carnival inside his chest, it was proven futile.

“Take a deep breath.” Her voice was the only thing that snapped him out of his thoughts, doing what she told him to do. 

After hearing the air going in and out of his lungs a number of times, Jade finally leaned back again. “Yup. I’m no medic, but I can hear pneumonia coming when I hear one. You need to go back to bed.” She stood up and tried to pull him up, which was to no avail as he was still dumbfounded on the event that just happened. "The sun's setting down and the rain won't stop anytime soon. It'll get colder than this."

“I just got here–”’

“Back. To. Bed.” 

Has she always been this demanding? He never liked being told what to do when it's not from someone of higher rank, but he could surely get used to this one. Ghost couldn't help the small smile on the corner of his lips as he stood up, walking towards the hard bed slowly before sitting down again. She gathered the steaming rations on her hands and sat back on the chair, his heart swole in a way he never thought it could. 

"I brought chicken sausage and… pasta bolognese. You can choose whatever and I'll take the other one." Jade said, opening the lids to let the heat out while waiting for Ghost's answer, but when he didn't say anything, only gazing at the foods, a thought clicked in her mind. "Or or or, you can have both of them, if you want. I'm sure you're starving."

"...What about you?" Yep, she guessed right. He wanted both of them. Big man needed a big meal. 

"Don't worry about me. You haven't eaten in days. I already had mine before coming to the facility, so I'm good, I promise."

A gulp, "Can I have both?"

"Sure."

----------

He’s back under that suffocating, smothering coffin under the ground. Trapped alone in the dark, he felt his heart beat racing, pounding against his chest that he could hear it on his ears. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

He’s afraid. 

Ghost tried to bang his fist against the roof, but it wouldn’t budge. Even until his arms were bruised, until blood came out, he felt that the earth would swallow him whole any second, before Ghost felt the wooden base of the coffin disappear into dust, which made his body fall into a deep, bottomless void, getting farther and farther from the coffin.

Just as he thought that he’d forever fall without end, his back hit the ground with a great force, waking him up from his nightmare. Ghost opened his eyes with a jolt of his entire body, breathing fast and laboured as if he’d just gained back his ability to take air in. 

"Hey." 

The familiar voice called to him, prompting the man to focus his blurred vision, finding Jade. He’s finally awake enough to register that this is no longer inside the coffin where he was buried alive, but inside a wooden cabin deep in a rainforest. The rain still falling outside, the sun long gone, only the moon to accompany them. His surroundings were dark, save for the soft yellow lighting from a portable bonfire on the bedside table. Ghost was laying on his side facing her, nothing to support his head from the absence of pillows. 

He then saw that his hand was grabbing Jade’s wrist in a death grip, almost shaking. She looked like she was startled by the sudden grip of her wrist when she'd just been wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief, but she didn’t show any sign of panic or daze, just calmness inside her eyes. "Nightmare?" 

Ghost released his grip and answered with an alarming wet cough, his breathing starting to sound difficult, before weakly muttering, "Why aren't you asleep?" 

"You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor–" He tried to wake up before being pushed down back to the bed on his side. 

"Your fever got worse, you were sweating, and shivering as well. That infected wound on your shoulder added to the problem." Ghost might not be in his best condition, but he could hear her worry as clear as day.

She looked messy with the very long red locks of hers undone, contrasting with her usual tidy and orderly appearance. And to be frank, she’d had that worried tone since the second she found him in the warehouse, since she heard that he was missing, and probably since the day he texted her that he’d had to go on a mission. 

"That is total nonsense! I'm not the one who's beaten up right now!” The logic must have left him because of the fever. Did he really want to sleep on the hard wooden floor with those bruises all over his body?! 

The usual Ghost would retort some sarcasm towards her, but all he did right now was to stare at her. Jade would've thought that he's completely out of it from the illness, until he mumbled,

"...You should let your hair down more often."

"...wHaT?” her voice cracked at his words. Why was he talking about her hair all of a sudden?

A light cough, “I said you should let your hair down more.”

“Wh– Why?" She chuckled, half amused and half confused. "Look at them. My hair's a mess if I let it down. It's really hard to take care of, especially in the wind. Let it touch the rain, and air drying it is basically a recipe for disaster." The ginger said while rubbing her heavily tangled hair. She had intended to brush them when Ghost was asleep earlier, but she must admit that she didn’t have the energy to do it. Days of tracking and helping him had taken more of her than she’d expected.

"That's precisely why." Ghost started, still eyeing her face softly.

"...What do you mean?"

"Beautiful.” He confessed, "You're beautiful when your hair's a mess, so let it down."

A pause as he tried to rack up an answer in his jumbled brain. "It's not sudden. I've always liked it." 

The sentence baffled, perplexed, and shocked her. Why did he say that? Why was he doing this?? What kind of dream or nightmare did he have?? Jade’s jaw dropped to the floor, her face turned almost as red as her hair because of that particular sentence. Ghost had never been one for talking, let alone compliments. That was the normal, healthy Ghost, then. So if he's on the opposite condition…

"I– What's with the sudden flattery??"

No one ever complimented her hair. Since she was a baby, a child, a kid in the orphanage, she kept being skipped by potential parents because of her striking red hair. 

Jade recalled how she would see a couple shake their heads as they whispered among each other, quickly looking at the other orphans. Her brothers and sisters come in and go to their new parents, while she stayed. And for that reason, she grew to dislike – hate her hair, only until recently did she ever see a good in them.

And now, this man just admitted that he had always liked her hair since the day he met her, albeit… in a feverish, delirious state?

"T-thank you for saying that, Simon." Finally finding the courage to react, Jade continued, "but anyway, how are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"...cold." Ghost mumbled.

For sure that thin blanket would be doing anything in the cold rain. There was no more piece of clothing or any blankets left inside the house to use. She had started a little portable bonfire on the bedside table to give the room some form of luminescence as the sun was long gone, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop his shiverings. 

Holding his eyes open was already a heavy task for him, but this cold felt like a thousand knives on his skin. He wanted to sleep, God, he wanted to sleep. He’s exhausted, except getting trapped in that coffin and buried alive inside that dream was the last thing he wanted to experience right now. Getting air into his lungs was also a burden to his chest. Even with the painkillers and antibiotic Jade had given him, his wounds hurt all over. 

However, this is nothing. 

Ghost had experienced this before, far, far worse than this, and he was still alive. He’ll tank through the cold, he could endure any pain. 

It’s the same as ever. 

Nothing’s different.

Had he ever heard that kind of sentence before?

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Jade softly muttered to him, looking at him not with a look of pity, but of compassion and willingness to help. 

"Do you mind a– um… A cuddle?” The woman sitting beside his bed said nervously, prompting him to look at her face. "Shared body temperature. I suppose it's effective in this situation."

He took that back.

It's different now.

“...No.” He replied shortly.

"Really?”

“Yeah.”

“O-okay! The bed’s small, can you face the other way?” She asked, to which he nodded before he used all the energy he had left in his body to lie on his other side. With heavy clumsiness, he finally faced the wooden wall. The light of the moon shone through the window, hitting his face softly. Not long, he felt a dip on the other side of the bed. Jade had climbed on the bed and fixed the thin blanket to cover his figure properly. Ghost could feel her presence on his back, looming behind him. He didn’t know what to do, obviously. He never really shared a bed with anyone in a long time, let alone a woman. It’s almost pathetic. 

“Can I… wrap my arm around you?” Jade asked hesitantly to the back of his head. “I–I don’t mean anything weird, just to warm you up! Like I said I love you and all – and I do mean that – but in case you’re not comfortable with me hugging you I will totally understand and—”

“I said I don’t mind it.” Ghost cut her off before she could blabber more.

“Okay… I’ll just. Put my left arm above you. Like this.” Lifting her arm, she then gently put her wrist on his shoulder, just barely beyond his side line. “This okay?”

“...Hm.” She’s pressed to him. She’s affirmatively pressed to his back. Her warmth instantly traveled to his entire figure, pleasantly so. 

“Good. That’s really great, yeah. Your shoulder is really high, wow." He couldn’t say anything to that. Is that a compliment? “While we’re at it, lift your head up a little bit.” 

Even though it confused him, he did what she told, and an arm sneaked its way past his cheek and placed it firmly there, and before he could ask her what was she trying to do, he got his answer. “I’m your pillow.” 

Ghost let out a chuckle at her retort, and to be honest, he didn’t have any strength left to refuse the offer. His neck hurt and his head felt dizzy without a pillow, so he dropped his head right then and there on Jade’s bicep, and what she didn’t expect was the fact that he deliberately scooted back even further, finally clinging to her figure – a relaxed huff leaving him.

And just like that, Jade’s assumption that Ghost didn’t like hugs went down the bloody drain. She had to bite her lips in order to hold in the scream inside her. God, he must’ve felt her racing heartbeat on his back. He sounded like a literal puppy with that last huff. If she has a third arm she would’ve loved to pet his hair.

------

The rain hadn’t stopped since they arrived at the cabin. The cold seeped through the woods, piercing through Jade’s skin as she made Ghost have the blanket. Other than that, the woman couldn’t deny the soreness on her arm as his head was pretty heavy. She didn’t mind it at all though, as long as he was comfortable, a sore arm was nothing compared to what he must be feeling.

It’s been about an hour since she climbed the bed to cuddle with him. Jade could really tell a lot about his condition from this distance. He’s really hot to the touch, his shoulders moved up and down in a quite fast pace. Still, it seemed that the shared body temperature worked as his shivers stopped. Was he already asleep?

Jade moved the hand that was on his shoulder to the front of his face – waving it up and down.

"I'm still up." His deep voice startled her.

Shit. He’s still awake. "S– Sorry. Just checking."

Meanwhile Jade was waiting for him to sleep, Ghost couldn’t even bring himself to sleep, for fuck’s sake. And not because of the nightmare, but because of her presence on his back was all he could think about. He felt relaxed, but not relaxed at the same time. It’s like his entire being felt safe in her arms and presence, yet his mind thought that he didn’t deserve this. Because she had searched for him, she had to leave her home, family, and friends again, and even though Jade had told him that she would always go and find him – and the things he said to her – he still felt like an arse. 

"Lottie."

Jade noticed the name, prompting her to blink. "Mm? You okay?"

“Thank you... for saving me. And about what I said,” A brief pause, “I've hurt you. I'm sorry."

She stayed silent, looking at the back of his head. Ghost was always a blunt person, and it wasn't the first hurtful thing that he'd said to her. Calling her a midget was one thing, but saying that he didn't need her?

She knew he was in immense pain and under heavy mental duress from the imprisonment, but if what he said was true…

"Did you mean it? What you said?" Jade finally replied back, questioning him about the words he'd said. She wanted to know if he really mean what he said. She needed to know.

It took a few seconds for Ghost to answer, seeming like he was preparing himself. "No. Quite the opposite."

Hearing those words from him felt like a earning medal, prompting a smile coming from her lips. "Thank you, Simon. For staying alive.” 

“Will you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, because..." Jade lightly sighed behind him, "I need you too.''

And he thought he had a cold heart. That one simple sentence coming out from the one person he allowed himself to love after such a long, long time, made his heart - no, his entire being melt right then and there, in her arms.

A mosquito decided to land on Jade’s hand, making her sway the bug away. “Oof, there’s some bugs here.” 

"...What's the bugs' favourite band?"

Oh great heavens. A pun at a time like this? "...what is it?"

"Bee Gees." 

"Oh that's goooood." She must admit that his timing was immaculate. "You ever watch Bee Movie though?"

"...Only bee I know in movies is Bumblebee in Transformers." 

"Yeah well. Suits you I guess. And good for you for being oblivious about the Bee Movie."

"What kind of movie is that?" He asked.

"A movie. About bees suing humans."

"The fuck?"

"Yea yea yea we'll watch it when we get home. Now sleep." Jade chuckled. "Good night, Beanpole."

"Goodnight, Midget."

"I'm right here if you need me."

*****

"I know."

It's finally here!! To be continued in Part 2!

[writeforfandoms]

The Little Things Give You Away

Find my CoD Masterlist

You've been with the 141 for a little while now, part of the team but not part of the pack. A mission to Urzikstan changes that.

Warnings: Feelings of inadequacy, canon typical violence, non descriptive violence, shifter etiquette, swearing.

Word count: 5.4k

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader (fennec fox shifter), with background Alex x Farah

You’d been with the 141 for a few months now, after tons of work and a few test runs. You meshed well with their skill sets, your long fuse and medical training giving you an advantage over other hopefuls. By now, you’d run ops with all of them, as a large group and in smaller groups. You knew these men, trusted them on the field. 

But that trust still only went so far. You still didn’t feel like part of the pack. 

It took time, you knew. You’d integrated into other packs before. Part and parcel of this kind of life - you’d already been in half a dozen packs. (Which was perhaps a high number but you got along well with people. You didn’t think that was a fault.) 

So you had a job you loved, with men you trusted and respected. And a pack that kept you at arms length. 

One of these things was not like the others. 

You managed. You did the best you could, which was still pretty damn good. And that was enough. 

Getting called to the briefing room was nothing new, and you sat a couple seats away from Gaz and Soap. 

"Got a call from an old friend," Price said as he walked up the front of the room. "So we're gonna go help out. Off the books." 

"Where are we going?" Gaz asked, looking interested. 

"Urzikstan." 

Gaz lit up, but Soap and Ghost didn't. Well. At least you weren't the only one who didn't know what was going on. 

"Weapons will be provided once we get there," Price said. "Pack light, our ride will be here in an hour. Dismissed." 

You stood and let the others go first. You didn't have too much you had to do, after all. Just throw some necessities in a bag. 

"Question, sergeant?"

The voice of your captain and alpha broke you out of your thoughts, and you shook your head. "No, sir." 

Price eyed you for a moment before he nodded. "Best hurry," he advised quietly. 

You tipped your head in acknowledgement and walked faster, turning down a different corridor. Your quarters were a little bit away from the rest of the pack. 

Which was fine. It was fine. 

True to your prediction, you threw things in a bag and carried it out to the heli pad, and ended up being the first one there. You debated shifting, but knew you'd catch shit if anyone else saw you. So you sat down and pulled a book out of your bag, settling in to wait. 

"Good book?" Gaz stood over you, his own bag slung over his shoulder. 

"So far," you agreed, craning your neck back to look up at him. "Sounded like you know where we're going."

"I know which old friend, at least." Gaz shrugged, taking a step back so you could get to your feet. "You'll like her." 

Your eyebrows shot up. Her? Well then. This would be interesting. 

"Hurry up, wee menace!" Soap called as he passed the two of you. You immediately scowled after him. You hated that nickname and the whole team knew it. 

"One of these days," you muttered. 

"Only if you can catch him," Gaz pointed out with a grin. When you turned your withering stare to him, he held up his hands, laughing. "Was just a joke, love!" 

You huffed and turned away from him, ignoring his soft groan. The walk out to the heli was short, and you buckled in silently. Gaz sat across from you, trying to catch your eye, and you relented somewhat. Enough to smile at him. 

The flight was long and boring. The pilot, Nikolai, was a cheery man who occasionally told jokes over the headsets. Price sat up near him. 

When you finally landed, Urzikstan was hot and dry. Nothing too unusual for the region. Part of you luxuriated in the heat, wanting to shift and stretch out. 

But you didn't, falling in at the end of the line. The sandy tarmac crunched a little under your boots. 

"You still know how to make an entrance," an American voice drawled. You blinked.

"Alex!" Gaz jogged forward, clearly excited. 

"He's not wrong," a woman added. You finally got up to where you could see too. The man, Alex, stood next to the woman, both of them looking pleased. 

"You're one to speak," Price said, holding out his hand. "You both know Gaz. These are the rest of my team." He introduced Soap, Ghost, and then you. Of course you were last. As usual. “These are Farah and Alex.” 

You nodded to the pair, watching them. Hopefully you’d get some answers soon. You were starting to feel antsy. 

“This way.” Farah took the lead, Price falling in next to her. Gaz stuck with Alex, and of course Soap and Ghost were together. You trudged after them, taking a few moments to look around. 

Farah didn’t speak again until you were all inside, a little bit pressed together. The room was probably not really meant for five men as big as them. 

“We’ve had problems with the Russians again,” she said, glancing meaningfully at Price. 

“Who?” He frowned down at the map.

“A lieutenant of a man named Makarov.” 

You straightened, feeling the tension in the room ratchet as your teammates did the same. 

“One of his lieutenants, huh?” Price mused, leaning a little closer to the map. “Show me.”

Farah went over what she could, showing where the Russians had come from and what territory they’d claimed. It wasn’t much, yet, but she was rightfully worried about them taking more. 

“We will need to do recon, but I can do that.” Farah shot Alex a quelling look. 

Alex huffed softly. “Be better if you didn’t have to do it alone.” 

“Nobody notices a cat,” Farah pointed out, half gentle, half exasperated, the tone of an old argument. 

“I can go,” you offered, barely glancing at Price for permission. “I’ll blend right in.” 

Price hesitated only a moment before he nodded. “Fennec fox,” he said to Farah’s questioning look. 

Farah nodded, pleased. “We have time. We should learn each other’s scents now.” 

You grinned, immediately stripping off your tac vest. Ignoring the noise of protest from Gaz, you dumped your vest and boots off to the side and shifted. 

It was easy to wiggle out of your clothes as a fox. You were, you had to admit, pretty tiny, weighing only three pounds. Your ears swiveled, taking in all the sounds around you (you were pretty sure you heard a quickly stifled “aww” from Alex) before you yipped, once. 

“Enough of that,” Price grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You huffed at him, uncowed, and took a few steps back and forth. 

Farah, when she emerged from Alex’s other side, was a cat. A sand cat. Also nearly perfectly suited to blend in with the sand, and very close to your size. But with smaller ears. You perked up, tail wagging as you crept forward. It had been a long, long time since you’d had anyone properly sized to play with. Farah’s nose twitched and she stepped closer to you, giving you both a chance to familiarize yourself with the other’s scent. 

And then you carefully bopped her on the nose. 

She reared back, looking startled, ears flickering. You readied yourself to roll over in apology, until her tail flicked and she bopped you right back. You yipped, high and pleased, and bounced at her before racing away. 

You weren’t sure exactly how long the two of you played tag, but it was long enough that you were thoroughly worn out. You’d seen multiple buildings, wound your way between at least half a dozen people (not including your own pack), and had even stumped her twice. All in all, you’d say that was a pretty good showing.

Until one big hand scooped you up. You squeaked, resisting the urge to bite when you sniffed the hand. Gaz. 

“Not leaving until tomorrow,” Gaz told you quietly, holding you close to his chest. You were still a little mad that he could hold you with one big hand, but, well… Being so small was to your advantage sometimes. “Food, then relaxing for a bit. Price’s orders.”

You huffed a little in acknowledgement, settling against him. Of your four packmates, he was the most conscientious about holding you, with Price as a close second. You didn’t even let Soap pick you up anymore. 

You did shift back to eat, not quite surprised when Farah ended up next to you, and Alex on her other side. 

“I have not seen a fox shifter in a long time,” Farah said, glancing at you. 

You smiled. “I’m the only fennec in my family,” you admitted. “Which is okay! Not like any of us are too big.”

Farah nodded knowingly while Alex just blinked at you. 

“How long have you been with the 141?” She nudged Alex into eating. Aww. Adorable. 

“Few months.” You shrugged, pushing your food around your plate. You were hungry but not - the food looked good but sometimes making yourself actually eat was harder. You had protein bars stashed in your bag for this very reason. 

She glanced between you and them. The rest of the pack had all settled around, not quite including you. Which didn’t bother you as much as it probably should. You could see the wheels turning in her head and shook your head a little. It wasn’t worth asking them. 

“So, how’d you end up here?” You looked at Alex with an easy smile. 

Dinner passed easily with the two of them, exchanging stories. You had a few of your own, including a few pranks you’d pulled off when you were younger. Sometimes being small had its advantages. 

But when Price called your name, you still straightened and looked his way. 

“Finish up,” he ordered, nodding to your plate. Dammit. You’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Then lights out, since you’re scouting tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” you muttered, only a little sulky. You were quick to finish off your plate, even as Farah excused herself to talk to Price. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Alex asked very softly, giving you a quick look over. “Just, I’ve seen packs before, not just here but all over. They’re normally…”

“Tighter?” you asked with a wry little smile, carefully keeping your voice low enough that the pack couldn’t hear you. “Yeah. I know.” 

He eyed you carefully, gaze flicking over to where Farah and Price were talking. “Well, if you need anything, you let us know.”

Warmed by the unexpected offer, your smile softened. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” You nodded to him, and his lips quirked in return. You stood to put your dishes on the pile and retire for the night, per orders. 

“Everything alright?” Gaz asked, catching up to you easily, almost touching you. 

“Yeah, fine,” you were quick to assure him. “Which one’s ours?” 

“Here.” He guided you to the room the pack had been given. Quarters were tight, you understood. Was far from the first time you’d be sharing with them. “You sure you’re alright?” 

Your smile definitely felt frayed. “Why do people keep asking me that?” you mused, not quite expecting an answer. “Do I have some cosmic sign above my head?”

“No, just–” Gaz cut himself off with a sigh, shoulders slumping. “Checking, I guess. I know it’s easy to feel on the outside of things.”

You paused in the middle of taking your boots off, looking at him. For a wild moment, you wondered if he’d heard you talking to Alex. Then you shook it off. “It’s fine,” you said, looking back at your boots. “Not a big deal. Temporary additions are like that, I get it.”

“Temporary?” Gaz’s jaw dropped, distress leaking into his scent. 

“Yeah?” You frowned at him. 

“Who told you this was temporary?” He even sounded distressed now, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

You blinked. “My last CO,” you answered slowly, only a little uncertain now, even as you grabbed your sleeping bag. “Nobody said anything, so I figured–”

“That you were replaceable.” His eyes had gone wide now too. 

You shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Fuck.” He dropped his head. “You… fuck.”

“Hey, it’s fine, I get it.” You shot him a grin, easygoing and a little mischievous. “Foxes aren’t easy to be around for everybody.” 

Gaz looked at you like you weren’t speaking the same language. "You think we care about that?" 

You shrugged. "Who doesn't?" You shook your sleeping bag out and double checked that your stuff was as out of the way as you could get it. "It's not a big deal, Gaz." 

His jaw clenched, distress still in his scent, but something else was overpowering it now. Some odd combination of anger and determination. "Think there's been a misunderstanding," he said slowly, looking at you. 

You shrugged, wiggling into your sleeping bag. "Look, it's fine. Stop worrying about it. I'm here to do a job, same as you lot. Just leave it." 

He did not look like he would leave it, but he did turn and walk out, letting you finally settle down to sleep.

Or at least to lay there with your eyes closed, trying to turn off your brain. 

You woke briefly when the rest of the pack trooped in, but Price touched the top of your head. "Just us," he murmured, low and almost gentle. "Go back to sleep." 

You blinked slowly at him before you nodded, closing your eyes again and curling up. You'd be less of a bother if you took up less space, so you tried to take as little as possible. 

There was a soft but brief conversation behind you. You tried to tune them out, letting your eyes close and tucking your nose down again to block out errant scents. 

You were asleep before the pack had finished settling in. 

You woke first, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible and taking a moment to look at the pack. Soap and Ghost were curled together, Soap shamelessly using Ghost's bicep as a pillow. Price was between them and Gaz, stretched out and breathing deeply in sleep. Gaz… Gaz was on his side facing where you had been, a little furrow in his brow, looking faintly uncomfortable. 

You resisted the urge to check on him, to crouch next to him and touch him. You wouldn't be welcomed, anyway. So you turned away and went in search of a warm drink. 

Damn Gaz for making you wonder about your place in this pack. 

You had some nice quiet time before the rest of the pack got up, and then it was mission time. You got ready silently, taking as little as possible. One of your teammates would hold your stuff while you were scouting, you knew. 

But you didn't want to burden them further. 

"Woke early?"

You nearly jumped at the voice of your captain behind you, and you turned to look at him. "Yes, sir." 

He nodded, making tea and then sitting next to you, close enough that your knees touched. You eyed him for a moment, uncertain. Price was not exactly the most touchy-feely alpha, although you'd seen him touch the others plenty of times. 

"After this mission, I think we need to have a talk, hm?" He tipped his head to look at you, eyes very blue for the brief look you allowed yourself before your gaze dropped to the table. 

"Yes, sir," you agreed softly, heart plummeting. Well. Months was not a bad run in a pack. Better than your personal low of three weeks! You'd be fine. Everything would be fine. 

"Nothing bad," he assured you, because of course he did. He didn't want you distracted on mission. "Just clarifying some things." 

"I understand." And you did. Foxes weren't good for a lot beyond scouting and recall, after all. 

He nodded once, firm, and turned his attention back to his tea. You swallowed the last of your drink and slunk away quietly. 

You needed to get your head on straight and stuff your feelings back in the little box to be examined never. 

By the time you all gathered, you were ready, bouncing lightly on your toes. Gaz stood next to you, bumping into you lightly. 

"We've got two forward teams," Price said without preamble. "Soap, Ghost, you're with Farah and Alex. You two are with me. Farah's people will provide backup once we've got our intel." 

You nodded. No surprises there. 

"We will need to look for numbers, locations, entrances," Farah told you. "Weapons." 

You nodded again. "Got it." 

"Right. Let's get on it, then." Price smirked, jerking his head to the waiting cars. 

The drive out into the desert was quiet but for the roar of the engine. Gaz kept shooting you little looks, and you clenched your jaw. 

He must have talked to Price. Maybe he'd talked about your position on the team… or lack thereof. 

You couldn't help the niggling doubt that this talk Price wanted to have would end with you off the team and out of the pack. 

You breathed in deep and shoved it back down. You needed to focus. You needed to be clear headed. So you could report accurate information. 

The car stopped, and the two groups got out and moved up. Farah's group split off, and Price led you and Gaz away. 

He halted and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised. You hunkered down, stripping off your vest. Shifting took no time, and you stretched out. 

"Ready?" He asked you softly. You resisted the urge to yip, instead stretching out your front legs and then bouncing in place. "Alright. You report right back to me." 

You bounced again and took off, weaving through the sandy landscape easily. You blended in perfectly, your ears flickering. 

Honestly, this kind of work wasn't hard. A former assignment had had you doing this near daily for a month to keep an eye on a high value target. 

You could always do more of this after Price ousted you from the pack. 

Huffing at yourself, you slowed as you approached the enemy base. Okay. Time to work. 

You made sure to take thorough mental notes before you crossed paths with Farah. She flicked her ears at you, tail twitching. You bobbed your head carefully. She mrrped very softly and gently headbutted you before she turned and headed back to her group. You did the same. 

You shifted back and Gaz hovered until you had your vest back on. You spoke while you dressed, being sure to speak clearly and as concisely as you could. 

Price nodded. "Well done," he murmured. "Right. Follow me." 

You shoved down the little thrill at the praise from your alpha (for however much longer that lasted) and nodded. 

The op was… not easy. Never easy. But you all made an excellent battering ram, clearing enough enemies off the field for Farah's people to make good headway. 

Price even managed to take the lieutenant alive, something that left him very pleased. 

You stood off to the side after the dust settled, watching the celebrating with a little smile. 

"Get over there and join in." Alex stopped next to you, nudging you a little towards Farah. 

"Maybe in a bit." You shrugged, trying not to fidget anxiously. 

"Hey." Alex frowned, ducking his head a little. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just… I'm fine." You shrugged again, fingers tapping against your vest in a restless pattern. 

Alex didn't get a chance to ask further. Soap threw his arm over your shoulders, pressed up tight to your side, while Ghost's hand landed heavy on top of your head. 

"There ye are!" Soap crowed, giving you a little shake. "Finally! Been hidin' from us?" 

"What?" You blinked, caught off-guard. "No, I just–" 

"Come on." Ghost tapped the top of your head and let his hand fall again. 

Alex grinned, looking far too pleased as Soap dragged you away. You didn't fight it, too confused to even object. 

"Found her?" Price asked, amused. 

"Aye, Cap." Soap pulled you in front of the captain, grinning, before he finally let you go. You couldn't entirely shove down the slow curl of dread in your stomach. 

"Have you eaten yet?” Price was once again focused on you. 

“No,” you admitted slowly. “Figured I’d eat in a while.” 

“Gaz told me you assumed this was a temporary position.”

You did not falter, because you’d been expecting this all day. “Yes, sir.” 

“Your last CO?” Price’s head tipped, just a little. The kind of mild curiosity that you didn’t believe for a second. 

“Yes.” You clenched your jaw, trying hard to be very still. 

“He was wrong.” Price took one step forward, just barely in your space. 

You blinked rapidly, confused. “...What do you mean?” You felt slow, like you were missing something that should be obvious. 

“Means yer pack, ye dafty!” Soap piped up, and then yelped when someone slapped a hand over his mouth. 

“It means you’re ours,” Price reiterated, not even sparing Soap a look. “I never intended you to be temporary.”

“Oh.” You blinked again, flabbergasted. “You… did?” 

Price huffed softly, his hands landing on your shoulders and pulling you in, slow but sure, until he was properly hugging you. You melted. You’d been so sure you wouldn’t have this–

“You’re pack,” he rumbled quietly, just for you. “Until you tell me otherwise.” 

You hid your grin in the hug. “You’ll be waiting a long time for that, sir.” 

Price huffed, amused, and released you. Only for Soap to tackle you from behind, obnoxiously rubbing his head on top of yours and ignoring your yelled protests. Price just watched, not moving to help you.

Gaz came to your rescue, because he was the best. 

“Shove off,” Gaz grumbled, helping free you from Soap’s grasp and instead wrapping his own arm over your shoulder. “C’mon, you need to eat.”

“Have you always been this fussy?” you asked, amused more than anything, letting him steer you to a table. “And just repressing it?” 

“No,” Gaz tried to deny at the same time Price said, completely deadpan, “Yes.” 

You sputtered a laugh, shaking your head even as you sat. But you didn’t have a chance to grab food - Gaz beat you to it, loading a plate for you and putting it in front of you. You blinked. That… that was new. And very interesting. 

Even more interesting was him claiming the spot right next to you, sitting close enough that your thigh pressed against his.

But he didn’t say anything, so you didn’t either, just focusing on your food. You ignored Soap snickering about something with the ease of long practice. He was always a menace. 

The celebration lasted well into the night. Soap pulled you into a few dances, Gaz kept you supplied with drinks and snacks, and Ghost silently watched over all three of you with little huffs of amusement. Price stayed for a little while before he slipped away to do work. 

You honestly weren’t sure what time it was when you finally begged off to go sleep, but you did know that Gaz followed you back to the room you were all sharing. 

“Think we’ll head out tomorrow?” you asked sleepily, dropping your boots next to your pack.

Gaz shrugged. “Depends how long it takes Price to get what he wants,” he murmured, sounding only slightly more alert than you. 

“Leave packing for the morning, then.” You dropped down into your spot, curling up again without even waiting for confirmation. 

“Good plan,” Gaz agreed, settling next to you. He didn’t quite touch you, but he did settle close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. 

You woke to him curled around your back, his breath puffing softly on the back of your neck. You blinked sleepily, tempted for a few moments to just go back to sleep.

Until the position you were in actually sank in. Then you very carefully extricated yourself, praying your pounding heart didn’t wake him. 

That… that was odd. And new. And a little bit terrifying, honestly. Because you liked Gaz, you’d always liked Gaz, even when he poked fun at you. You’d always forgiven him the fastest for the teasing. 

So to wake up to him like that? Made you want things you shouldn’t want. 

But you escaped without incident and went to find some food. 

Somehow, you weren’t surprised when Farah stopped next to you, Alex behind her. “Come with me,” she said. 

You didn’t even question her, just got to your feet and followed her. “Do I need to grab anything?” 

Farah shook her head. “I’ve already told Price,” she said, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “We are not going far.”

Well, that wasn’t quite as reassuring as she thought it was, but you didn’t question her. You just followed her and Alex to a car. 

“We will be scouting,” Farah told you as Alex drove. “Look for any sign of escaped Russians, or reinforcements.”

“Can do.” You sat up a little straighter, calmer now that you knew the mission. This wouldn’t be bad. Not bad at all. 

You and Farah both shifted in the car and Alex opened the doors to let you out. Farah went one way, and you went another. 

The base was large, spread out, but the two of you covered the ground easily. But everything was quiet, to your relief. You didn’t doubt that the Russians would hear of this, and they might retaliate. Possibly. 

If they had the resources and decided this was a high value enough target. 

You kind of hoped they just gave up. These poor people deserved some peace and quiet. 

You passed Farah, darting over to greet her and sniff her face before you continued on your way. You just wanted to check one more area, just to be sure, and then you’d head back. 

But you got lucky. No sign of life out here. (Apart from the little lizard you chased off.) 

You trotted back to the car, enjoying the little buzz of a job well done. Farah was already back, sitting on Alex’s shoulder with one of his hands on her back to help stabilize her. 

Aww. They were adorable. (And also making the ache in your soul much worse.) 

You hopped into the back seat and shifted back, pulling your clothes on again. Alex didn’t get in until you were finished shifting, and even then, Farah just sat in the passenger seat very regally. 

“All clear,” you said, and Farrah chirped her agreement. 

“Good.” Alex started driving. “Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem.” You grinned. “Always a joy to go out for a run.”

Alex glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Especially with someone your own size?”

You laughed, leaning back more in your seat. “Pretty much.”

Alex nodded. “Farah said something about that too,” he admitted, glancing at the cat next to him. She just huffed but didn’t actually object or bat at him. So clearly he was fine. “What do you do with your pack?” 

“What, in terms of running?” You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t. Not shifted, anyway. I can’t keep up.”

“So you and Gaz don’t…?” Alex trailed off.

You blinked. “I mean. Not really. Sometimes he trots after me, but we really can’t go running together.”

“He trots after you?” Alex grinned. “Boy’s got it bad.”

You blinked again, startled. “What?” 

“Following you around. Saw him make you a plate last night, too.” Alex’s grin was mischievous. “Farah does that for me, sometimes. Confused the hell outta me the first couple times, until she explained.” 

“Until she explained,” you repeated slowly. Because. He was wrong. There was no way Gaz had been… Had been… 

“Yeah,” Alex said slowly, glancing at you in the mirror again. “She said it’s pretty typical behavior for shifters.”

“For courting, yeah,” you agreed, still speaking slowly. “But you’re wrong about Gaz.” 

Farah actually turned around to look at you, giving you the most disbelieving look you’d ever seen on a cat. Alex gave you a matching look, which would have been hysterical under other circumstances. 

“He’s been flirting with you literally the entire time you’ve been here,” Alex pointed out. 

And you were about to deny that. You really were.

Except.

He’d been the one to follow you and check on you. He’d held on to your stuff while you’d been scouting. He’d made you a plate and made sure you ate.

Oh. Shit. 

Ohhhh shit. 

“Alright there?” Alex was not teasing any longer, concerned now. 

“Yeah,” you muttered almost automatically. “Fine.” 

Farah growled, low and short, expressing her disagreement with that. But she didn���t have a chance to do more - the car stopped. 

Without a second thought, you popped your door open and shifted, slipping easily out of your clothes and running. 

You didn’t want to be around people while you went over all the instances suddenly coming into startling clarity. 

Gaz had been trying to court you. For weeks. He’d been subtle about it at first, just walking with you, or making sure he was the one to pick you up. 

But dinner really cemented it. Sitting so close to you, fussing over your food like that… That was courting behavior, undoubtedly. 

It was too much all at once. 

You found a good space under a cluster of rocks right at the edge of base, burrowing under them and curling up. 

Gaz had been trying to court you for weeks, and you were an absolute dumbass who hadn’t noticed. You covered your eyes with your tail. 

A soft whine caught your attention some indeterminable amount of time later. You blinked and moved your tail to find Gaz as a wolf with his nose trying to get into your hiding spot. He whined softly again, and you could just see one paw scratching at the rocks. 

You huffed and crawled towards him, pushing your body against his snout. He withdrew, backing up a step to give you plenty of room. You tucked your ears down and wiggled out of your hiding spot, shaking briefly to get rid of any lingering sand. 

Gaz laid down in front of you, eyes big and pleading, tail wagging hopefully. 

You cocked your head to one side, one ear up one down. 

He huffed and wiggled a tiny bit closer to you, tail wagging a little harder. His tongue darted out for a quick kiss to your muzzle.

Oh. That. He must have talked to Alex or Farah. 

You eyed him for a moment before you took one step closer, until you were right in front of him. If this were anyone else, it would be a little scary just how much bigger he was than you. But this was Gaz. 

You weren’t scared.

You licked his nose. And when his eyes absolutely lit up, tail wagging so hard he was practically causing a sand storm behind him, you licked his nose again. 

He hopped to his feet to nuzzle you, exceedingly careful. You huffed at him and started back towards the pack room, since you did want to have an actual conversation. Gaz, to your surprise, kept pace with you. Which meant you were trotting while he was walking leisurely.

Stupid long-legged wolf. 

Soap got one look at you and whooped. “Took ye fuckin’ long enough!” he crowed. 

Your ears flattened to your head and Gaz snapped at Soap with a low warning growl. Soap completely ignored the warning, starting to tease you two. And promptly ended up with a wolf tackling him. 

You ignored the mess as the two of them rolled around, growling and snarking. Instead you went to the door and then sat and yipped at Price to open the door for you. 

“Fuckin’ muppets,” Price muttered about the other two, scooping you up in one big hand. You yipped at him again and he huffed back. “Hush. We’ll talk while they figure shit out.” The door shut behind him. But you still weren’t scared.

You believed him when he called you pack. And if this was part of being his pack… You wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 5 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys learn that they don’t know you as well as they thought they did, while you find some newfound ‘friends’ in an American and his unofficial boss in Urzikstan.

Word Count: ~ 4.6k

Warnings: Descriptions of death, knives, blood, guns, explosions, debris, gas, torture, kidnapping, shooting, choking, heavy topics, biting, it’s a lot yall

A/N: umm sorry ive been gone for a week here’s some food!! *runs away* this is a big switchup though from mainly 141 to Alex, Farah, and a few more pieces of reader’s backstory so lmk any thoughts or theories (yk I love them) hope you enjoy<3 (side quest: find how many characters you can recognize from cod!)

Requests are open!

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The first thing Captain John Price registered when he walked into the room, the rest of his Task Force following closely behind, was that they were in some deep shit. They’d just gotten back from a mission. The one they’d been called into during the volleyball game. It had been low stakes, but instead of going back to the apartment, they’d been told to get back to base as soon as possible.

Laswell was pacing back and forth, fidgeting, two things she never did unless everything was falling apart at the seams. The last time he’d seen her so worked up had been years ago. When she caught sight of him, there was no sigh of relief or relaxation, she breathed out four words.

”They got her, John.”

He tried not to let the tension in his body show, tried not to look just how internally panicked he was right now. Simon stiffened, hands balling into fists. Price knew it was a conscious effort to not lash out immediately.

”What.”

Ghosh ground out, eyes narrowed. Soap tried putting a hand on his shoulder, a hand that Simon only shoved off immediately. Laswell just shook her head, looking to be in shock as she only sat down at one of the chairs in the dimly lit room, pulling documents out from a drawer under the long table.

Price was the first to sit, followed by Gaz, then Soap, and finally, Simon who refused to relax, his leg bouncing impatiently under the table, hands on his knees.

Laswell opened one of the files, sliding it around to where they could see it. Lo and behold, it was a picture of you from a few years back, maybe when you’d been 14 or 15. You shouldn’t have been able to get in that early, it shouldn’t have even been possible. You wore a uniform, the file listing you by your first and last name, your callsign in the center. There was no official position or branch like there should’ve been.

“Wasp.”

Price stared at it for a few moments, reading whatever he could glean over in the file before glancing up at Laswell, who in turn pulled another file out. This one looked newer, the corners were not bent or warped yet. When she opened it, there was no picture on file. This time, it stated “Marines” as your branch. Your last name was listed as “Woods” instead of Riley.

To keep Simon from finding you on the database, most likely. Or someone else.

And the thing that caught his attention the most?

The “Captain” title right next to your first name.

”That’s nae possible.”

Soap said, jaw clenched as he glanced at Simon, the man refusing to meet his eye, glaring down at the files.

”It is,”

Laswell said, breathing out a shaky breath. Trying to calm herself, Price knew.

”They found her in a camp at 12, Frank Woods took her in, pulled some strings, and enrolled her early off record. He kept her mostly off base in a safe house until she turned 18.”

Gaz’s gaze was on Laswell now, narrowed, pinned on her. Interrogation was his specialty, after all.

”A camp?”

A nod.

”Essentially a POW camp, her relations to Ghost meant she was a valuable asset to bargain.”

Price didn’t need to glance over at Ghost to see the way he’d nearly stopped breathing, the shock being a common aspect among the group. Gaz let out a deep breath, hand going to hold the brim of his cap, his gloved finger running along the seam.

”Then how the bloody hell is she in high school?”

Simon asked, trying to reason with how this could’ve happened, how you could’ve lied to them, to him, for so long about everything and he’d never even caught on. It hadn’t been a volleyball camp keeping you from attending his mum’s funeral, it had been a POW camp, one you had been in because of him in the first place.

Simon asked, trying to reason with how this could’ve happened, how you could’ve lied to them, to him, for so long about everything and he’d never even caught on. It hadn’t been a volleyball camp keeping you from attending his mum’s funeral, it had been a POW camp, one you had been in because of him in the first place. And the new, somewhat stable foster home you’d been in? A safe house provided by your new foster parent, Frank Woods, an American Sergeant that Simon had heard whispers of.

He’d allegedly been a force to reckon with during the Korean and Vietnam wars, retired now and pushing 60 probably, but no less legendary by military standards.

”She’s 23, Lieutenant. It was a cover mission.”

Another surprise.

Another lie.

“Steamin’ Jesus…”

Soap muttered, the gleam in his eye dimming from what was most likely concern.

”It was an undercover mission, but with her gone, I don’t know how we’ll handle Nova…”

Laswell muttered to herself, catching herself just in time to shut her mouth then and there, probably realizing she’d already said too much, when Price stood up, staring her down.

”Nova? The hell is that?”

He asked sternly, and Laswell gathered the files in her hands, putting them neatly back into stacks, falling back into the controlled woman he usually saw her as.

”That’s classified, John.”

“Considering we’re closely involved with her, I don’t think it is, Kate.”

He saw the slight whiplash it gave her to call her by her first name, which made sense considering it was always Laswell. Her face grew stern, despite the worried frown lines already carving into her face.

”Don’t. We’ll get her back.”

The rest of the boys watched as she walked out of the room, Gaz muttering something sarcastic under his breath, Price pacing, Soap cursing not so quietly under his breath in his full unbridled accent, and Ghost sitting deathly still.

”I’ll talk to Briggs.”

Price said firmly, words stiff as he walked out of the room.

A moment of silence between the remaining three in the room.

Soap was the first to speak.

“Fuck!”

~

The sweet and irony smell of blood filled your nose as you shakily tried to move, limbs trembling for some reason.

Blinking to try and clear the blurriness in them, you opened your eyes, only to begin rapidly blinking as something small and grainy lifted from a sudden draft and blew into your eyes.

Sand.

You hated sand. The way it shifted under your feet, how it got under all your clothing and in your mouth, under your nails, and in your shoes. The grainy, grinding texture of it against your skin when you had a high-stakes mission and had to lie in it, waiting for the perfect shot.

But sand of this texture was in a handful of places, so at least you could narrow your location down a bit. Getting up and looking around would also help.

You were in a small room, from the looks of it, leaning against a wooden beam that dug at the clothing on your back with jagged edges. Textured, colorfully patterned quilts and blankets hung around, and shifting your head to turn right despite how it throbbed, you saw a corkboard filled with pins and images of people, locations, and notes. A few of the faces were recognizable, not in a good way though. Recognizable in the sense that you had seen those faces before you thought you’d killed them.

The sandy floor beneath you had wood underneath, by the feel of it. Your palms pushed against the floor, trying to get the leverage to stand up, only for you to slump against the wood again.

You needed to get up.

This time using your good leg to push against the floor, as well as your palms, you got almost halfway up the beam, nearly standing, when the sand made your foot slide back out and you fell onto the floor again.

A small, breathy chuckle from the other side of the room had you immediately turning your head, the quick movement making it spin slightly, even as you heard the sound of metal moving against the floor as well as only one footstep every few seconds.

“I don’t like the sand either. Hard on my leg, or what’s left of it, anyways.”

The American from earlier came in, maybe Alex? You’d been so disoriented when he’d told you that you could hardly remember. Fragments of foggy bits came to light, but nothing more than that.

His hair was a sandy color, dirty blonde almost, with a mustache and hair that was sticking almost straight up but short enough to not look ridiculous. His one leg was perfectly normal, but on the other, there was a curved piece of metal to replace the lower half of it where a nub was all that was left.

He offered you a hand, one you hesitated before taking. An American soldier wasn’t a threat, or at least shouldn’t be. He pulled you up as you stumbled to your feet.

“Where are we?”

Your raspy voice asked, throat dry. You tried to clear it to no avail. He grabbed a canteen from a table a few feet away, near the corkboard, and handed it to you with the lid already popped off.

“Zaravan City, Urzikstan. We’re not close to much anything, though, this is one of our safe houses.”

He spoke while you chugged the water, it flowing down your throat mercifully and filling your empty stomach, only serving to remind you that you were also starving. Food could wait, though. When you handed the nearly empty canteen back to him with a small sigh, you raised a brow.

“Our?”

A woman’s voice, thick with a familiar accent, spoke then.

“Yes, our.”

She was standing by the corkboard, glancing over the information with a sharp eye, before walking over to Alex. Her hair was dark and thick, tied tightly back into what seemed to be a ponytail beneath her dark garb. A gun hung from her hip, something semi-automatic. You weren’t sure if that was legal or not here, but couldn’t find it within you to care.

“Farah, in case you don’t remember, Riley.”

You were glad she’d told you because you most definitely did not remember her name. Her gaze met yours, and you held it for a long minute, recognizable facial features coming to your mind, like a dream, you could reach but not quite hold. And then—you remembered.

“Karim,”

You breathed, eyes narrowing. General Karim had proven to be more than capable more times than once during the scandals throughout Urzikstan, especially to the boys.

The boys.

You’d nearly forgotten until now, but you wondered just how much they knew. Whether someone had spilled, or Laswell had told them everything. They would probably be biting at the leash, but there was nothing that could be done now, not with the mission having failed.

They were on their own now.

Farah nodded.

“It is not every day we find an American in a Mexican facility,”

A pointed glance at Alex, whose lips curled slightly up at that.

You grumbled, legs still shaky, probably from the gas that had managed to slip in before you’d put the gas mask on doing rounds through your body, the last of it yet to leave. Managing to stumble over to a chair near a small round table in the corner of the room, you sat down, it groaning under your weight.

“Not every day I see a group from America and Urzikstan in a Mexican facility.”

You shot back and watched as Farah and Alex exchanged a glance, a silent conversation happening right in front of you. Rude, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t done the same thing before.

Alex sighed, grabbing the chair with one hand and easing himself down onto it with his leg, propping the prosthetic up on a nearby crate.

His blue eyes met yours as he set one elbow down on the table.

“We were going after Santiago Garza, a key member of their cartel, which we have reason to believe has…”

He exchanged a glance with Farah, who gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

“…access to things he shouldn’t.”

Alex finished. Farah spoke next, already sensing your oncoming interrogation despite not being in control of the situation.

“We answered yours, now answer our question. Why did he want you?”

Her tone was demanding, leaving no wiggle room for you to try and keep anything from her. If this whole arrangement was going to work out, you were going to have to be transparent with them, anyway. Or as transparent as you could be.

“I have a… personal history with the Garza family. Not a pretty one.”

Farah pressed her lips together but didn’t question further.

The American wasn’t as smart.

“What kind of history?”

He asked, brows raised in an almost innocent expression if it weren’t for the gleam of suspicion in his eyes. You shook your head. Not willing to talk about it. Not now. Woods was the only one you’d ever talked to about it, other than David when the bastard was even there.

Which hadn’t been often.

“What’s the date?”

You then asked. If you’d been captured in America, and then taken to a supposed Mexican facility, then to Urzikstan, it must’ve taken quite a while. Not to mention the travel from there to the safe house…

“The 24th.”

Farah answered, hands moving to idly wipe sand off of the barrel of her gun, back leaning against the wooden post. Her finger remained near the trigger. Untrusting.

It had been nearly four days.

By then, someone had to have noticed the body of Nalani in your room, and your obvious absence. A homicide and a missing person’s case as well, most likely. The boys had definitely heard of it then, despite what you assumed was a mission they were on, considering how early they left that volleyball game.

Had Woods been informed? Had anyone on your team been informed, or were they still too deep in their work in your absence?

Alex’s eyes snapped to the window as he heard something rustling outside, and within moments he was down on his haunches, you and Farah were quick to follow as he lifted one of the thin sheets lying over the windows from the bottom, glancing out for a second.

The pain in your limbs was barely even noticeable compared to the mini-adrenaline rush you were flooded with, mind and body sharp and alert. You’d performed while in much worse conditions, you could manage this one just fine, you were sure.

But without a weapon, you were defenseless.

Reaching for a gun that was laid out on the table, Alex’s hand grabbing your wrist stopped you and refused to let you grab it.

“We’ll handle this, stay inside.”

He said in a hushed tone, voice firm, even though Farah was the one with the most authority here over the both of you.

Farah slowly opened the door, peeking out, dark eyes scanning the dusty roads and markets, when several shots rang out, feminine screams following quickly as the sound of people running became all too obvious.

“Al-Qatala.”

Farah murmured, jerking her chin to Alex, before slipping her gun from her side and walking out of the door, the American man giving you one last glance that clearly said “Stay here.” before following.

Racking your brain, you tried to remember anything that might help you. Urzikstan. A small country in Western Asia. Violence wasn’t uncommon, by the sound of it. And Al-Qatala…try as you might, you couldn’t remember anything about whoever they were. Maybe some sort of gang? Probably, judging by the gunfire and angry Arabic being barked out in the streets.

But you weren’t going to be helpless, stuck in this tiny “safe house” that had two entrances and one large window a man could easily fit through. You stood up, careful to stay clear of the window to avoid catching any strays, only to find the gun that had been on the table gone.

Alex must’ve taken it.

They surely had more weapons somewhere, except for the fact that no matter where you searched, there was nothing to be found. Nothing except documents of blacked-out information, pictures on the board, and a small stash of food and water lying around. A lot of dates, too.

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you could work with it.

A few strands of rope that you quickly picked up were lying around. Every lesson you’d overheard Woods giving to his team, drilling it into their heads, began repeating in your mind. Like a dream, almost.

“Can any of you boys tell me the five rules of guerrilla warfare?”

His voice, sharp and brusque but not hostile, asked the men in front of him.

You were crouched down, hiding in one of the small areas where the metal of the walls dented outwards slightly, giving you an area to lay down and peek through at him.

One of the men raised his hand in a salute, chapped lips opening to speak.

“Hit and run, sir!”

Woods nodded, hand shooting out to point at another man down the line of soldiers. Mostly young boys who stupidly enlisted, living for their country and dying for it. You didn’t see the point, even if Woods did. You’d never seen the point, not even when Simon had enlisted.

He could’ve been one of the dead.

He still might be. You hadn’t seen him in a while.

“Ambush, sir!”

You snapped back into focus at that, eyes watching keenly as the man nodded again. He had a habit of it; nodding very often. Even if you just inclined to take a bite of soup, he’d nod. The praise was sort of nice, you supposed. Even if you barely knew him, just having arrived here a few weeks ago.

They’d found you on one of the starving horses from the camps, near the front of the marching people, leading their way to freedom despite how sickly and beaten most were. You weren’t much better.

And when the bastard controlling that camp must’ve ordered his remaining men to circle like vultures and take out as many of the surviving prisoners as he could?

Everyone alive after the vicious attack had huddled together in a small cave, the people at the entrance usually being shot from overhead planes by the men too cowardly to approach.

They’d found you huddled up, a warm body on top of you, on one of the sides. Thrown you over their shoulder. Taken you away despite your hitting and biting, and brought you here to domesticate you again. They weren’t bad. They were just soldiers. And soldiers were all about duty and honor, two things you couldn’t find within yourself to care about much anymore. You wondered if Simon still cared about them, or if he’d been numb to it for much longer. After the death of his mother, and how pissed he’d been that you’d missed the funeral, you seriously doubted it.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watched Woods nod again. You must’ve missed the others, but you knew them by heart by now. After watching and listening for so long.

Harassment.

Mobility.

And finally…

“Surprise.”

A hand grabbed you by the arm, yanking you forward and through the wall, through the hole you’d been watching from. Woods held you by the arm infuriatingly easily, which made sense considering how much of a runt you were. Or had been at the time.

The metal had scraped against your shoulder, cutting open a shallow scratch from collarbone to right arm. You glared at him, kicking at him even as his soldiers chuckled.

Laughing at you.

You despised how patronizing it felt, leaning forward and sinking your deceivingly sharp teeth into the wrist of his hand that held you. Blood drew, and he didn’t drop you, simply moving to hold you in his other arm, smiling warmly at you as his shoulders shook from silent laughter.

“Feisty, huh?”

He said in an amused tone, ruffling your hair while someone went to grab a medic.

The memory felt warm and fuzzy, a reminder of a long time ago, though it only felt like yesterday.

But you had more important things to do than have an existential crisis.

Spying a fan in the corner, you pried the metal caging off, wrapping both hands around one of the metal pieces on it, and yanking until a piece came off. Jagged and sharp. Just how you needed it.

Wrapping your little pieces of rope around the base to protect your hand, you crept towards the back exit, listening for the sounds of any footsteps nearby. It would be hard to overhear, especially with the sounds of yelling, screaming, and gunfire in the streets. You wondered if your little makeshift friends had joined the dead or not.

A near-silent step, a branch accidentally cracking under his step, and you were on him.

Hit and run.

The metal slid smoothly into his throat, a quiet wheeze being all he could get out before you leaned his body back, watching his eyes glaze over as the blood ebbed and flowed. You pulled the gun from his hands, searching and taking what was left of his weapons as well.

One flash bang.

One knife, the case of which you strapped onto your hip, the flash bang being tucked into it soon after.

Mobility.

You crouched down, glancing left and right on the street, and breaking into a low sprint to a building down the dusty road. A restaurant by the looks of it. You couldn’t read the Arabic on the front, it having been one of the languages you hadn’t learned, even in your training for Special Forces.

More if the men flooded the streets just as you ducked behind the counter. Letting them all know you were here with gunfire wasn’t beneficial yet, not when you were so badly outnumbered. You needed to find the central point they were getting in from.

You needed to move.

Waiting for the men to pass by, you eventually went out of the back exit of the restaurant, passing the cool chill of its freezer near the kitchen before jumping onto a ladder in the alleyway outside, climbing up, and falling prone onto the ground as soon as you were there.

Looking up over the ledge, you could see now how there were so many.

Trucks were spread about the city, men exiting them and taking cover for a few seconds until they got to where they wanted to be, and started opening fire. They communicated through their radios, but why they would be here didn’t make sense.

Why try to raid a city when you couldn’t gain much, if anything from it?

Unless they weren’t trying to gain but to take someone out.

Someone who had always been against what you assumed was their little group. And that someone was none other than Farah, judging by how quickly she recognized them, and the gleam of hatred in her eyes when she looked at them. She’d been a bit too eager to slaughter them.

And with how quickly the men were flooding the roads and streets, and their communication, it wouldn’t be long until they found her.

Unless…

Glancing at the rooftop a few buildings over, you saw none other than a large tower. Not just any tower, but an antenna tower.

You observed the crowd for a moment, scanning, watching everyone, until you saw it. Heard it, rather, the loud boom it made, the man yelling “RPG!”. It was the second story of the building across the street. You couldn’t get there in time, even if you got over there without being killed or without too many civilians dying.

You needed to buy time.

Gathering the fractures courage left in your body, you got onto the balls of your feet, and against everything you’d been told, to stay quiet and unnoticeable, you began a mad dash across the building, jumping, and not stopping to marvel when your feet hit the solid ground of the other rooftop, only running further.

You still hadn’t gotten his attention.

You were almost to the antenna tower. Now or never.

Harassment.

Slipping the flash bang out of your belt-ish thing, you pulled the pin out, throwing it up in the air. You heard it when it went off, your vision blurring white as you dove and hit the floor. He must’ve heard it too, considering that when you glanced over, the large weapon was aimed at you, and when he fired, you saw it sail through the air not only at you but at the tower as well.

Diving over the edge of the building, you heard the blast, and chunks of debris and wire began raining from the sky in your area. Your ankles burned when you stood, legs screaming against any movement. Ash floated into your nose and throat, as well as the smell of fire, and you took off into another run, diving into a building, only to run face-first into another man.

Ambush.

Your fist met his jaw before his bullet met your body, but barely. You both rolled to the floor, kicking and flailing around, landing hits on each other. He jabbed at you with his gun, his knife out of reach. You rolled him onto his back, your knife coming out, only to be knocked away by his calloused hands.

Your arm went around his neck, hand locking into place with your other elbow as your knee pressed on his neck. Your breathing was pants, more gasps than anything as he gave a final few kicks, before going limp.

You picked your knife back up, head jolting up when you heard a familiar female yell just a few streets down.

The members of the Al-Qatala seemed lost, some shouting to others in Arabic, others going on rampages against civilians just for the hell of it, seemingly. You didn’t doubt that Farah had a small army of her own, but they hadn’t been prepared.

Neither had you.

Sinking lower to not attract attention, you crept through the streets, watching carefully, or as carefully as you could through your blurry vision. Sand and dust blew into it, but you couldn’t find the strength to blink it away.

Your head was throbbing again.

You weren’t sure how you managed the journey there, brain taking a temporary lapse in recording memory maybe, but the next thing you knew, you were near an old warehouse.

Talking came from inside.

A raspy voice. Old, but not kind or warm, not like the voices of the old men you were used to. Harsh and sharp. Like a whip wailing as it flew through the air. Cut paths through it.

“Where is it?”

Silence. As you crept up to the entrance of the warehouse, where the door was just slightly ajar, you could see the outline of Farah tied into a chair. Multiple other men inside. Maybe three or four. Pulling your gun slowly out, you set the handle against your knee, putting your eye right on the scope.

“We know you have the gas, Farah, or should I call you Karim?”

Cruel.

Unnecessary.

But it gave you a kernel of information.

Information you would think about later if you had the time. If you didn’t die here.

A harsh hit to the face. Audible.

You could tell it stung, but she didn’t budge.

You lined the scope up with his head, finger closing in on the trigger, holding down, just not enough until.

Surprise.

The blast of the shot alone rang out through the warehouse. Except it wasn’t who you’d been expecting to fall to the ground who did.

It wasn’t who you’d thought it had been. Not Al-Qatala, not Cartel.

No, instead, Philip Graves, director of the Shadow Company, fell sideways in the dirt.

And the men surrounding Farah?

None other than your own team that had been handed off to Graves during your departure.

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@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kurokitty6

@popcornlauncher

@karleequinn

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

@kiwibao

@juneonhoth

@theyoungeagle

@kee-0-kee

[numberonecodwomenfan]

ok yall heres my thoughts for a potential olympics au.

price boxes. 100 percent. no clue why but he just has the Vibes. it’s definitely not his first olympics. he’s getting close to retiring from the olympics (which no is not an old man joke, they genuinely just have a very small age window to be like in their prime to compete. simone biles is 27 and she’s considered on the older side for olympic athletes).

gaz does gymnastics. look at him man he just looks like a gymnast. it’s his first olympics and while he’s not really an underdog he’s not very well known. he is however definitely getting the stephen nedoroscik treatment (immediately becoming the country’s sweetheart, having tons of fan edits, etc).

soap plays soccer (IT’S CALLED SOCCER 🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸) as a goalie and again, scotland’s sweetheart. they eat him UP. i mean look at him why wouldn’t they. he and gaz become immediate friends in the village and post online together. they make jokes on tiktok about getting freaky on the cardboard beds (ilona maher and nicole heavirland style) and no one ever shuts up about it. he’s new to the olympics as well.

ghost plays rugby because he’s massive and angry. i feel like this is his second olympics and he’s lowkey still mad his team lost last time but he’s pretending not to be 😭 he doesnt participate much in the dicking around, but since he, price, and gaz are all team england he gets spotted in some of the online shenanigans (can u tell i pay more attention to the athletes goofing off online than the actual games)

farah i feel does beach volleyball. shes tall (5’8” which is crazy because she looks SHORT next to some of the other characters) so good for volleyball, and i’d imagine urzikstan’s team would unfortunately be pretty small considering. yk. so they might only have enough athletes for beach volleyball since it only requires 2 players. im imagining this to be set in a world where farah wasn’t leading the ulf but the occupation and stuff still happened, but it’s over and urzikstan is slowly healing again. throughout the competition farah is very vocal about her pride for her country and she talks about her brother and parents, and says that she’s competing in honor of them. she also becomes one of those athletes that everyone roots for no matter where theyre from, simply because of a) how good she is, and b) the way she speaks about her family and her country, and how emotional it makes people.

alex surfs. look at that man and tell me he doesnt surf. i know we agreed he’s from some podunk midwest town but i can also totally imagine him being from like socal and being the most doofy surfer dude. he meets farah in the olympic village and is immediately infatuated. also i feel like he would have an obsession with one of the foods there like that norwegian swimmer with his chocolate muffins and post about it online.

(again can yall tell i pay more attention to the athletes dicking around on tiktok than the sports)

i wanna say rudy and alejandro both do equestrian because yk. vaqueros. but i cant tell if it’s too on the nose. let me know ur thoughts.

laswell does archery. i believe its one of the sports that is more likely to have “older” athletes (although i could be wrong) and i imagine laswell is like 45 ish. lesbians love her. this is not her first rodeo she has olympic’d before. people see her talking to alex on the boat during the opening ceremony and theyre like “is she his mom or smth wtf???” bc they look similar and they eventually just lean into it. like yeah this is my mom she’s like 7 years older than me. dont think about it too hard the numbers make sense. i swear.

könig wrestles because he’s massive. i fear booktok gooners would obsess over him and it would simultaneously give him a huge ego boost but also make him deeply uncomfortable. he’s a good wrestler tho so he toughs it out 😭 the gooners see him without the doofy little wrestler cap for the first time, realize he’s fugly, and move on. he can live in peace again.

horangi does shooting because i keep seeing that hot korean shooter kim yeji everywhere and shes so cool. also bc horangi is in the military in game so um. yeah. dude is cool as fuck and he knows it.

[captain-mj]

Celebration or Funeral

Graves invites the crew out to a bar for seemingly no reason and hopefully no ulterior motives.

Price was dumbfounded at the audacity honestly. Graves had sent out an invite to the 141 and Alejandro and Rodolfo. Even included plus ones if they had a partner to bring.

He didn't understand at all. It was so bizarre. The invitation was safe. They had a team to check for anthrax and the like. But everything had been given the seal of approval.

There was a time, date, location, even coordinates in case they didn't know the place. He had checked. It was a bar in Texas that was close enough to the border that the Los Vaqueros wouldn't have to travel too far from home. It was close to where they had chased Hassan originally.

The 141 would have to fly of course, but that's cause they were stationed in Urzikstan at the moment.

Price mentioned it offhandedly to Farah, planning to toss it out and never ever seeing that traitor again.

But Farah had smiled at him. "Oh! Yeah, Alex and I were going to go. I'm glad Phillip decided to invite you guys."

"Phillip? You guys are on first name basis now?"

She frowned at him, immediately looking displeased. "Price, remember what we talked about. We've been working together for a while now."

"You can't trust him."

"I never said I did. I simply ask you trust me." Farah huffed. "And I will be going to their outing. He does this with his closest Shadows often and Alex and I always have a nice time. Maybe you all need to come along. It might be good to clear the air since we will continue to work with each other."

Price really wished he could convince Farah to stop working with him, but if she insisted on doing so, he would be there. "Fine. I'll come."

The other three agreed to come immediately, not wanting Price to walk into an ambush, relatively, alone.

The plane ride was... uncomfortable to say the least.

Ghost was currently glowering at Alex who kept glancing over at him and grimacing. He'd sigh passive aggressively and Alex would turn around to glare at him back.

"And why are those two acting like jilted lovers?" Price aske Gaz and Soap.

"Oh, Alex said he and Graves had become friends and Ghost is made because the two of them and Alejandro are friends. He considers it a betrayal to their friendship." Gaz explained.

"Ah. Are you also upset, Soap? You did get shot."

Soap nodded. "Well. I am pissed. But with Makarov around, Graves helping Farah to fight him, and him betraying Shepherd to throw him under the buss, I'm trying to stay level headed about it."

It was a shockingly grounded take. Price wished he could do the same. Inside, the anger was too hot. Too volatile. He didn't know what it was about Graves that just got under his skin, but forgiveness wasn't on the table.

Honestly he wanted to just beat him into the ground. Hurt him like he had hurt Soap and Ghost in Los Almas. Like he had hurt the Vaqueros.

He felt like a rabid dog when he thought of it. Normally, he was so much better at keeping his emotions in check.

Farah patted him suddenly and he glanced up at her. "Do you want a drink, old man?"

"Yeah. I could use one." He stood up and followed her to the cabin. The plane used to be a private one, but it had been repurposed for Farah and her Freedom Fighters. It was better for long distances than a helicopter and it had better optics when they had to make speeches or talk with government operations.

Farah didn't keep much alcohol on board, but she did keep a thing of whiskey for the two of them to share. She poured them both a glass and he took it from her gratefully.

"I understand why you're upset."

"And I understand why you're working with him." Price interrupted. "I do. I promise. It's just an adjustment. Especially finding out you socialize with him."

"Mostly I socialize with Oz actually."

"Oz?"

"His second in command! He's great. Very cool. He's shown me how to play video games." Farah smiled so softly, almost like she was embarrassed.

Price smiled a little himself, thinking of Farah being... normal. She had fought for so long. Her entire childhood spent in hell. If she enjoyed spending time with this "Oz" guy, he must not be awful. "Okay. I'm going to give all of them a chance, alright?''

"Thank you, Price. I do appreciate it." Farah squeezed his arm. "Really. I hope we can all work amicably."

They settled back down with the others and rested for this rest of the plane ride.

The moment they touched down, Farah and Alex were quickly getting out. Price bit his tongue and hung back, the 141 one quickly following his lead, even though Gaz did glance at Alex and Alex did glance back.

"Try to play nice. No unnecessary fights." Price ordered, patting Gaz's back.

"Aye, Captain." Soap responded.

Ghost stayed very quiet, only giving the slightest nod.

"At ease."

They didn't really separate. Maybe it was unease at being on unfamiliar turf or the fact that they were all enemies.

Alejandro was smoking near his car, Rudy at his right. His body language shifted, relaxing at the same time the grin appeared on his face. "Hermanos!"

Soap smiled. "Alejandro, Rodolfo. Long time no see."

Alejandro grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. Soap did the same with Rodolfo.

Gaz nodded at them. "Colonel Vargas. Sergeant Major Parra."

"I feel we're on a first name by now, Sergeant Garrick." Rodolfo smiled at him. "Nice to see you again."

Alejandro nodded but jumped into business. "Our invitation said this was an... apology. You guy's mention anything about this?"

"No. Just an invitation."

"Interesting. Let's head inside."

The bar itself was full of people. It took Price a moment before he realized it, but, with the exception of the bartender, every person in the room was a Shadow. All of them were in civvies, but he recognized a few of them from chance in encounters. They all talked about their work with no issues.

Alex had a cowboy hat on. For some reason, this was something he noticed immediately. He was currently downing a pint, trying to drink it faster than a dark haired woman who was currently beating him.

Farah was chatting animatedly with a giant man with strange makeup on. HIs hair was set up a bit like a vikings would be. He was smiling at her and nodding excitedly.

Price didn't like it.

The giant man looked at him and quickly looked... embarrassed? It was an odd look on such a big man.

Farah followed his gaze and waved Price over. He quietly walked over, keeping an eye out on everyone. Most people were drunk or getting there so there weren't many threats.

Oz smiled at him, standing up. Price didn't like that he had to tilt his head up to look him in the eye.

"It is nice to meet you, Captain. You too, Colonel. The rest of you." Oz seemed unsure of himself.

"Oz, I'm assuming?"

"Yes, sir." Oz nodded.

Farah smiled. "We were talking about a game he showed me! It's called Terraria. It's so much fun!"

"Now, Osmond." There was that familiar accent. Graves was smiling, looking... stupidly casual. A flannel shirt, tight jeans, a belt buckle. A walking stereotype of American. "Please tell me you haven't converted Farah to your nerdy shit."

"Hey!" Farah defended him. "It's fun!"

Graves shook his head, a bright blush on his face from intoxication. "Whatever you say, ma'am." He looked at them. For a moment, he made eye contact with Price and it was like a lightning bolt. But then his eyes skipped right over to him to Alejandro. He took a deep breath. "It's nice to see you again, Colonel. And you, Sergeant Major."

"The feeling is not mutual."

Graves stepped a bit closer, on the very edge of his personal space. "Alright. Hit me."

Alejandro frowned.

"One free hit. Consider it the start of us getting even with each other. There's no guns in here. No one is going to stop you and I'm not going to hit you back. So, hit me."

Alejandro weighed his options for a split second before socking Graves so hard on the side of his jaw that Oz had to catch him before he stumbled.

Graves took a split second, blinking involuntary tears from his eyes. He faced him again. "Great. Your drinks are on us." Despite the freshly blooming bruise, he still managed a rather charming smile.

Alejandro shook his head but stepped back. Rudy didn't.

"Only fair I let you have one, yeah?" Graves smiled right before Rodolfo hit him hard in the stomach.

"Stay out of Los Almas." Rudy hissed to him.

"I was planning on it, amigo." Graves managed to straighten up after a minute. "You four aren't getting a hit."

"Gonna let me shoot you later?" Soap growled at him.

Graves laughed. "Nah. Have as many shots as you want though." He nodded at them and walked away, clearly hurting a little but playing it off.

Price ordered the most expensive whiskey available. He downed a shot, keeping an eye on Graves as he went to each table. His hands touched every Shadow's shoulder. It was a light touch but Price recognized it. He did the same thing when the 141 came back from missions. A light touch to let him know they were alive.

"John." Simon muttered. "How are we feeling?"

"I'm following the Colonel's lead. He seems to be trying to run up a tab. I'm going to do the same. Farah also seems... happy. A normal friendship outside of the military will be good for her. Or as close as this is."

Ghost nodded and sat next to him. They observed them for a good minute before Gaz slunk to Price's other side. Soap was mingling.

There was country music playing. It sounded modern, but Price didn't exactly listen to the genre. He sighed and ordered another whiskey, hoping to keep himself just drunk enough to relax but not so drunk he couldn't fight.

As the songs flipped through, Price got tipsy enough to mildly enjoy himself. His friends had left him at some point, not too far away, just around.

Something came on the radio and Graves climbed on to a table. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone and he was panting a little bit.

"Turn that motherfucker off!"

"Come on, Graves it's just one song!"

"No! I've hated that motherfucker for ages and suddenly he wants to prounce around like a little bastard. That motherfuckers went to a fucking private school! Get his ass off my radio!" Graves hissed.

Price swallowed thickly. Maybe it was the whiskey, of which he was a few glasses down. Maybe it was the sudden anger and passion in his face. But he felt flushed from more than alcohol.

The next song, which sounded like a love ballad to him, seemed to please Graves who started to sing along. Despite the table being wooden, it held his weight as he stomped his boots on it. He smiled brightly as he did and someone handed him a whiskey bottle to drink during the chorus.

Price made eye contact with him and quickly glanced around to talk to his team.

HIs team which was not there.

Ghost and Simon had started to banter, making fun of people in the room despite never looking away from each other.

Gaz, who now had that cowboy hat on, had gotten swept up in Alex, the two of them currently dancing. Alex was a little out of step, his prosthetic leg probably making it harder.

Farah was now dancing with one of the pretty Shadows. The two of them twirling around.

Even Alejandro and Rodolfo were staring at each other, Rudy's hand was on Alejandro's chest.

Fuck. He didn't have anyone around.

Price looked back up at Graves who had looked away but somehow a few more of his buttons had come undone. His head tilted back, showing off a pretty neck. Fuck, his chest was heaving, breath puffing out of him.

They were making eye contact again. Graves licked his bottom lip and drank more of his whiskey.

Price got up and went to the bathroom. He took off his hat for a moment and splashed his face with water to try to sober up a little.

"Price." That fucking accent sounded from behind him. Maybe he should've hid in one of the stalls. But that would've felt juvenile.

"Graves." He looked in the mirror at him.

The man smiled. "Sorry if I'm interrupting. You alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" Price growled out, watching those red cheeks got redder.

Graves shrugged a little. "Don't know. Maybe I'm projecting on ya a little." He looked away, drinking more of the bottle.

"I'm angry."

"is it all at me?"

"No. Not just you." Price sighed and straightened up. He walked over until he was standing over him. Graves straightened up a little but he let Price take the bottle from his hand. His eyes followed his lips as he took a long drink.

Graves sighed. "Good?"

"Cheap tasting." Price tried to tease him, but it fell flat.

The pretty blue eyes peering up at him wouldn't let him go. It was infuriating. He found himself leaning down, lips pressing against Graves's, tasting the whiskey off of them. His tongue darted out to deepen it. For a blissful moment, his mouth opened up to let Price in.

Then he was turning away. "This isn't going to fuck up your team, is it?"

Price blinked and it was like reality slammed into him. "It is."

Graves smiled sadly. "John, I'd love to. But I'd be a right ass fucking up what you got going on. I think I've done enough damage."

"It'd feel great. God, I'd treat you right."

He laughed and Price felt his stomach clench. The rest of the whiskey bottle was slipped into his hand. They shared another kiss, tongues chasing each other.

"If you're sober, and still want to, go ahead and call me."

[mamalunawolf]

Soap Mactavish || Never Gone but Lost Forever

TW: violence, language, mature ratings apply, some minor sexual content.

Minors do not read. And do not read if you are sensitive to violence and angst.

It felt like a century had passed since Johnny had died. Everyone grieved differently, Ghost kept on doing his missions. Over and over again. Captain Price, did the same. Missions. Either going to Urzikstan to see Farah. Or going to the states to see Laswell and her wife. Gaz, stayed behind. To keep an eye on you..

You were a different story. You were Soap’s everything. You were the calm in his storm. Soap loved you whole heartedly just like any damned fool. How those late nights were restless between the two of you. The way he would be on his knees like a helpless man towards the immortal. How his lips grazed over your stomach. To taste you like nothing else mattered anymore. How his calloused hands held your hips down just to caress your body. Every curve and contour of your body.

“You alright?” Gaz had spoken, knocking you out of your trance. The laptop had pulled up the old reports when Makarov was still out terrorizing the world. Having Johnny’s name pulled up, his photo on the side of the screen. A neutral expression on that Scottish man’s face. He was definitely the best. Clean sweep was what he was. You were trying to find means. A hope. That his ashes weren’t spread across Scotland Yard for nothing. If they were his ashes.

“Yeah. Fine. Just a little light reading.” You spoke, the exhaustion was there in your tone. And on your face. You closed your laptop and stood from the desk. Spilling the only good glass of wine you had that was on your desk. Thankfully, not a lot had ruined your paperwork. “I might head down to the gun range. Shoot some targets.” You suggested. More to yourself than anything. He could come, only if he wanted to.

“Need company? I think I need to get myself into my sniping practice. Cap’n got onto me for it. Again.” He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. Only for you to nod and have him follow you out of your office.

—

Shot after shot rang through. Gaz seemed a little terrified that you managed to get each target in the heart or head. You practiced with Johnny too much to count. It was a good shot too. And each one better than the last. The TV behind them was playing. News reports of various things happening around the world.

“This just in! By the harbor was a report of a man taking down civilian casualties. Police have been informed and taking excessive action.” The reporter pans in view. A man in dark plated armor. Green lining into the suit. A black mask, covering over his mouth. The way his eyes stared down the camera before he shot it. Not allowing anyone else to see.

—

“Bravo six. This is Bravo 6-2 and 6-3. Coming in. We see the hostile.” Gaz and you were running. Preparing yourself for an incredible battle between what is right or wrong. Price heard the commotion and made you and Gaz team up and neutralize the target.

“Take the left! I’ll go right!” You had shouted at Gaz. Making sure no other enemy hostile was in the area except for the masked hostile that kept killing those in its wake. You had gotten closer to the hostile. Your gun raised and shooting bullets that did little to no damage. “Don’t move or I will use force!” And the hostile froze in place. Not a single step. Hardly any silence when the piercing screams of death was behind you. “Turn around. Now.” You demanded of him, the tone in your voice gave of some kind of authority.

“I won’t back down. I can’t do tha’ to ye.” He said, the undertone was calm. A little hostile and full of malice. The accent on the other hand was familiar. Scottish. As if you *knew* that voice before. Your eyes narrowed and you took a step forward.

“Soap?” You called out his name. The same lock of hair that trained down his head. His eyes like the oceans that always drew you in like a comfort and beacon of hope. He didn’t seem to know you, though. As his eyes were filled of confusion. The mask he dawned, covered his mouth. The hint of smugness if you could see that smirk on his face. Until Gaz came hurling in, and sent a punch to the face. He didn’t know, not until the mask flew off and johnny’s face appeared.

“Bloody hell.. Soap? Is that you, mate?” Gaz stood there cautiously, and stood in front of you as a protective shield. Johnny scoffed at you both. “Who the fuck is Soap?” He didn’t remember who he was and that painful feeling in your chest grew. He doesn’t remember you. He doesn’t remember the loving moments you shared.

“Johnny..Come on. Please… it’s me.” Your voice choked, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders fall on you specifically. His eye twitched and he growled in his throat. He lunged forward with a running start and knocked Gaz to the ground. Johnny grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the wall. “Johnny…please. Stop. This isn’t you.” You choked, your hands wrapped around his wrist and pleaded with him. Begged. His eyes. As if he remembered a little bit of your past together. “Don’t I mean anything to you?” The tears in your eyes pricked and you could hardly see straight.

His grip on you loosened and he stepped back and glared at you. His lips grazed over your ear as he leaned forward. “Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.” He moved away and turned his back on you. Grabbing his mask and leaving off the chopper that picked him up. Leaving you with those words echoing in your mind.

He was gone..

But for how long..?

[kaitaiga]

COD MW OC: Damien Whitlock Profile & Reference Sheet

》 Open File

GENERAL INFO

Full Name: Damien Whitlock

Nickname: Damo

Birthday: 7th March 1996 – Sydney, Australia

Face Claim: Zane Phillips

Affiliation: 2nd Commando Regiment (2CDO REGT), Tactical Assault Group East (TAG-E), Task Force Dagger 🗡️

Rank: Sergeant

Call sign: Bravo 2-6 (2CDO)

Height: 186cm (6’1)

Weight: 90kg

Blood Type: B- (B NEG)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Languages: English, Arabic (conversational), Indonesian (conversational)

Family:

Father: Arthur Whitlock

Mother: Audrey Mae Whitlock

Older Brother: Thomas Whitlock

Older Sister: Sienna Whitlock

Younger Sister: Zoe Whitlock

Affiliates:

Task Force Dagger

→ Captain Lachlan Jones (2CDO)

→ Sergeant Daniel Greenhill (2CDO Combat Medic)

→ Flight Lieutenant Archie “Frost” Campbell (RAAF F-35A Pilot)

→ Sergeant Joseph “Joey” Hernández (RAAF Combat Controller)

Task Force 141

→ Sergeant Major Hannah “Sparrow” Cayton (@revnah1406)

→ Sergeant Annabelle “Kit” Pham (@applbottmjeens)

→ Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin @sleepyconfusedpotato

→ Captain Price, Gaz, Laswell, Soap, Ghost

Los Vaqueros

→ Alyssa “Aly” Martinez (@alypink)

Para SF

→ Captain Arjun Dhingra, LT. Aditya Tripathi (@welldonekhushi)

Warrior Task Force (@islandtarochips)

→ Tiala "Shark" Toa

→ Agnes "Blast" Falagi

→ Nigel “Squirrel” Harrison

Urzikstan Liberation Force (ULF)

→ Farah Karim

→ Alex Keller

Other

→ Jackson Wyatt (1CDO, Warcom)

→ Benjamin “Otter” Lee (SAS)

Appearance

Hair: blond, short mullet.

Eye Colour: blue/grey

Build: tall, muscular

Scars: Bullet wound (left shoulder)

Beauty Marks: Right jaw, above and below the left eye.

Tattoos:

Personality and Traits

Damien comes across as a very laidback and open guy, very easy to approach and talk to. He is a pretty big jokester, likes to crack a few jokes here and there to make people laugh or lighten the mood.

Though in the heat of battle, he has known to be brutal towards his enemies, sparing no mercy and absolutely no time - getting a job done quickly and efficiently. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind when needed, even if it may be more emotionally driven.

Nevertheless, towards those he likes, he is a very caring and loyal person. Ride or die buddy. It’s pretty damn obvious too, he’ll never stop bugging someone he cares for no matter where they are in the world. He can read their emotions like a book too; he can tell when someone’s feeling down and will try his best to cheer them up.

ESFP-T (MBTI)

Damien is also really good with any sort of trade work which he learned whilst growing up on his family farm. You need an electrician, mechanic, or welder? He’s your guy.

Damien’s also the sort of guy to take care of others but not himself. Truthfully, after he lost Daniel, he found it very hard to cope. Thus, he took on Daniel’s role of looking after others.

Skills/Specialisations

Like any other commando, Damien has undergone a multitude of training, preparing him for anything and everything. Alone or with his squad. A few of these include:

Demolitions and Breaching

CQC/Melee Attacks

Wilderness Survival

Long Range Recon

HALO / HAHO (including water insertion)

Roping (aid climbing)

Hostage Rescue

First Aid

And so on. In his own time, Damien frequently trains in Jiu-Jitsu, earning his purple belt, further enhancing his CQC.

Biography

Coming from a family of farmers, Damien spent most of his childhood living and working out on his family farm in rural New South Wales. Throughout his younger years, he was constantly harassed/bullied by his drug addicted older brother, Thomas. Young Damien was no match for him but luckily enough, his older sister had his back at all times. Thomas would eventually runaway and was never seen again – presumed dead.

As he grew up, Damien attended an all-boys boarding school in Sydney where he met Daniel Greenhill – his best friend for many years to come. He never really excelled at any subjects other than wood/metalwork and P.E., so when it came down to his final ATAR exams he absolutely flunked them. Not wanting to continue studying or returning to farm life, Damien worked the odd job here and there to make ends meet.

Whilst working one of his jobs alongside his buddy, Daniel had dropped that he had met an operator by the name of Jackson Wyatt and suggested that he should meet with him.

After hearing all about Wyatt’s career as a Commando, Damien was sold on the idea; so much so that at the age of 19, he enlisted into the Australian Army after being trained by Wyatt himself much to his parent's disapproval. He served two years as an infantryman within 3RAR before completing the Commando selection course and earning his green beret, where he was placed in Lachlan’s B Company. Turns out he had a real knack for this sort of thing as he continued to undergo a range of further Commando specialist courses after initial Commando training.

 Since then, he’s done multiple tours to Urzikstan, Afghanistan and Iraq where he was introduced to Captain Price (via Lachlan) and Benjamin “Otter” Lee (via Wyatt).

Damien has since then worked alongside Captain Price closely thanks to Lachlan’s close connection to him, particularly in Urzikstan, but isn’t opposed to flying out to lend a hand wherever.

Modern Warfare I

During 2019, Damien is first seen in the UK on a training exercise with the SAS before he is swiftly sent to London’s Piccadilly Circus to assist against AQ’s terrorist attack, alongside Gaz. Afterwards, he joins the SAS Anti-terror wing along with Price and Gaz to clear a house in Camden, full of AQ affiliates in search of any information related to the Piccadilly attack and The Wolf.

Damien returns to Urzikstan alongside 2CDO REGT, where not long after he is called to assist Captain Price, Gaz and the others at the US Embassy, also aiding to save the Ambassador’s Assistant, Stacy. Following this, he follows the rest of the team back to the ambassador’s residence only to find the Wolf had been extracted by AQ forces already. Furthermore, he is seen briefly helping SAS and CIA on the night raid to locate The Wolf at his compound.

2020/2021

After the events of MW19, Damien spent this time on rotation in TAG-E, though was later sent back to Urzikstan on an emergency deployment to help aid in the assassination of an AQ leader. This proved to be a struggle. They were given little to no information and thus were subsequently ambushed, leading to the death of best friend, Daniel Greenhill, who tried to pull an injured Damien out of enemy fire.

After the funeral, Damien spent his time spiralling down. He became depressed, not leaving his Sydney apartment for days at a time and ultimately almost being discharged from his duties. Though thanks to his Captain and two close friends - Lachlan, Sparrow and Aly - they helped him find the means to work towards getting better and soon enough, he was ready enough to go back to his duties.

Modern Warfare II

In 2022, Damien is first seen undercover at Café Gracht alongside Captain Price where they wait for representatives from both AQ and Las Almas Cartel to show up. After seeing Gaz tranquillise the cartel member, they all move to enter Laswell’s vehicle and leave the area swiftly.

Later on he returns to Urzikstan, where he is again enlisted for help by Price to rescue Laswell from AQ along with ULF fighters.

Modern Warfare III

Damien spends this time going home to Australia for a little while before being sent on another tour around the Middle East. It is in Urzikstan that he (and 2CDO REGT) work alongside Phillip Graves and his Shadow Company, unaware of the events in Las Almas concerning Los Vaqueros and TF141. He is only made aware when seeing his friend Sparrow again, where she rips the SC patch off of him and promptly has a go at Damien for wearing that thing around them, explaining the full story.

2024 Onwards

Sometime during 2024, Damien was recruited into Task Force Dagger, a task force created in order to combat and end ‘Project Nightfall’ created by ‘STALKERS’ personnel. To be continued…

Trivia

EDM and rock/metal music is what he listens to most.

He is a Mclaren F1 fan, as well as being a big fan of the AFL team: Collingwood Football Club (Magpies).

Absolute gym junkie. Has an extensive collection of pre-workout, protein powder and creatine stored in his apartment (and snuck onto base). If he wasn’t a Commando, he’d probably be a bodybuilder or athlete of some sort.

Drives a 79 series Landcruiser. His number plate is “WHITLOCK”.

Damien keeps a scrapbook that he fills with stickers, trinkets, thoughts or drawings from various places he has visited.

During his downtime in Sydney, he likes to go café-hopping! He’s a big foodie. Also likes to take long walks during the night, overlooking the Harbour Bridge and generally just taking in the city lights. It's one of his favourite things to do to ease his mind.

In the past, Damien has never had a good relationship - they’ve all either cheated on him or ghosted him. He gave up looking for a partner even though he longed to have a family of his own.

Does jiu-jitsu and is currently at a purple belt.

Thanks to Daniel, Damien is pretty good at speaking Indonesian and really enjoys Indonesian food! His favourites are nasi campur and soda gembira. He’d mix Indonesian and English together to gossip about something to Daniel. After they both graduated high school, Daniel took Damien to visit Jakarta for the first time and he loved it! Also owns a couple batik shirts.

Frequently visits Daniel’s grave when he has the time. He sits there for hours just catching him up on every little event or thought that has happened, as if he were there to listen like the old times. Frequently catches up with Daniel's family too, they've taken him in like he's their son.

Moodboard + Playlist

[xxfaggatronxx]

Before I continue to post these are MY Call of Duty headcannons. Please be respectful because I change some peoples genders *transgenderfication beam activated*, sexualities, and presentations. If you don’t like a ship or anything else, I hope you are still kind.

John Price:

Married to Nikolai

Uses He/Him Pronouns

Cis Gay Man

British

PTSD

Nikolai:

Married to Price

Uses He/Him Pronouns

Cis Queer Man

Russian

Kate Laswell:

Married to {insert wife}

Uses She/Her pronouns

Cis Lesbian

American

Anxiety

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Engaged to John Mactavish

Uses They/It pronouns

Non-binary (FtNB) Demiromantic Asexual

British / Greek

Autistic / PTSD

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Engaged to Simon Riley

Uses He/Him pronouns

Trans masc (FtM) Pansexual

Scottish / Filipino

ADHD

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Dating Alex Keller and Farah Karim

Uses He/They Pronouns

Polyamorous Trans (MtMascNB) Bisexual

British POC / Japanese (Blasian)

Farah Karim:

Dating Alex Keller and Kyle Garrick

Uses She/Her pronouns

Polyamorous Trans Fem (MtF) Queer

Urzikstan (Canon) Syria / Afghanistan (IRL

Alex Keller:

Dating Farah Karim and Kyle Garrick

Uses He/Him pronouns

Polyamorous Cis Pansexual Man

Canadian / American

Amputee (Phantom Limb in left leg)

Alejandro Vargas

Married to Rodolfo Parra (sharing)

Uses He/Him Pronouns

Gay Cis Male

Mexican

Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra

Married to Alejandro Vargas, dating Valeria Garza

Dating Valeria Garza

Uses He/Him pronouns

Polyamorous Pansexual Cis Male

Mexican / Brazilian

PTSD (specifically fire)

Valeria Garza

Dating Rodolfo Parra

Uses She/Her pronouns

Polyamorous Cis Pansexual

Mexican / Canadian

Philip ‘Motherfucking’ Graves

Single af

Uses bitch/ stupid backstabbing Ho pronouns

Gay but in the harmful stereotypical way + super straight

White.

Ok for real: Philip Graves:

Single (but messes around with the Shadows)

Uses He/Him pronouns

Aromantic Unlabeled Cis Male

American

Keegan P Russ:

Engaged to Logan Walker

Uses He/It pronouns

Gay Trans (MtMascNB)

Native American

Logan Walker:

Engaged to Keegan Russ

Uses He/Him pronouns

Trans (FtM) Gay Man

American

Hesh Walker:

Single

Uses He/Him pronouns

Trans (FTM) Straight Asexual man

American

Hong-Jin ‘Horangi’

In a FWB situation-ship with König

Uses He/Him pronouns

Cis Pansexual Male with Fem Preference

South Korean

Alexander König

In a FWB situation-ship with Horangi

Uses He/Him pronouns

Cis Gay Male

Austrian / German

Social anxiety (NOT shy boy uwu)

[femoso-seben]

Zombie World

141, Farah plus Alex are on one crazy mission in Urzikstan dealing with a piece of strange machinery. It activated and the next thing they saw was two people looking down at them.

You and Leon, are new police hired for Raccoon City meet up at the old police station and join forces. It was you who found the unconscious group of soldiers.

"Wakey Wakey, Eggs, and Bakey," You said quietly shaking the one with a skull mask he stirred slowly and stared at you. It was incredibly awkward.

"Who are you? Where am I?" He asks you frown, he's British... why British?

"Raccoon City, I thought all personnel were pulled out?" You say slowly before looking around for any zombies.

"Bloody hell," You look over and see the one with the British flag on his cap sit up, You walk over taking his arm and gently lifting him up. He gives you a strange smile before he froze and just stares at you. "Police officer?"

"You alright?" A new voice asks, this one sounded American, which made you feel better.

"Put your hands up!" You froze and slowly looked over to see another one pointing a military-grade gun at you.

That moment you meet 141. You had to explain the current situation after one of the infected rushed at the unconscious woman.

To say they were in shock is less accurate than pissed.

Once you reach back up to Leon you explain what you two know.

"So... Officer," Gaz said looking at you, "What's going on?"

"We don't know. When we both got here people were trying to attack us, if you get bitten you turn-"

"So Zombies?"

"What are Zombies?" You ask. They all look at you and you turn to Leon who also looks confused.

"The living dead." The Scottish one laughed.

"Let's cut the crap," Leon steps forward, "Racoon City will be nuked soon, we need to get out of here, and find Claire and flee the city." I look over at him and we both nod.

"We need to go home," Farah said.

"Well... Figure it out once we run from this City, Maybe our government can help you?" You suggest. She looks at you before nodding and looking at the map of Raccoon City.

"We need to split up," Ghost spoke up.

That's how you meet a strange task force from another dimension.

------------

Would anyone want this a full fic?

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Helloo, more info about Ladybug? Like her height, age and so on? Because I'm a new follower and I was reading the kiss fic about Jade and Ghost. But I didn't see many appearances about Ladybug, other than the kiss fic, in your drawings and I was curious. The only thing I understood was that she is a medic

Hello! Soooo you're right on that, I haven't made much on Ladybug (Let's call her Lady for short) on this blog, and it's actually just a matter of starting it 😂. I've made the general story of her with Gaz on my mind, and all I need to do is realize it.

I will post her detailed bio in the future, so here's a WIP!

Here's a summary info!

Her name is Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham 🐞. She's a combat medical technician from 335 Medical Evacuation Regiment with the rank Sergeant.

Ladybug first knew Gaz from a dating app, but only met Gaz during the Piccadilly Circus Attack (MW2019). They met briefly without knowing that they've been talking in the dating app 💀.

Little did they know that they'll meet again in Urzikstan to help Farah, Alex, Gaz, and Price for medical and evacuation aid.

In the end of MW2019, after the gas plantation blew up, Farah asked Lady to search for Alex under the rubbles.

She's the one who performed on-field amputation on Alex's leg 👀

Credit to @shadeops21 for the loadout details! (❁´◡`❁) <3

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story VI: Farah

[Konchar] [Graves] [Gaz] [Price] [Novikov] [AO3]

This was originally going to be a retelling of the entirety of Farah's story in MW 2019, but I underestimated how long that would be, so these are more of snapshots of her life, up until 2019.

Farah is going to be a central character in part two because it will revolve around Urzikstan, so I was very excited to get into her character in depth. This was probably the hardest side story to write because I think the original story was already good (it's easier to write for something that had a lot of flaws in it rather than something good... maybe that's why I like cod after all these months lmao)

Anyway, I also decided I'm actually not done with the side stories, and the last actual one will be of... Roba, of all people. I know I made the comic for Ghost's origin story, but I never got to show what he did to Roba.

Alright That's enough rambling let's get to Farah's story

She doesn’t remember the first time she has heard of revenants. Humans who are saved from death, only to come back with abilities from worlds beyond their own. Of how they are revered, looked up to. And yet, misunderstood.

They don’t look up to revenants in Urzikstan.

The once-dead are not heroes among her people. They’re something to be pitied; people who chose to stay on earth and suffer, instead of move on to a better, calmer existence in the place after death. Take on the burden of the Reapers, dust off the dirt of their graves, and continue the endless fight for freedom.

In Urzikstan, revenants are called “those who sacrifice”.

Her baba taught her and her brother the different names of Reapers, told them tales of those who sacrifice as bedtime stories. She always found them fascinating, as opposed to her brother. They were often grim, their ending tragic and unsatisfying, but they felt more real like that. Felt more like her day-to-day life than any other fairy tale could.

She wouldn’t know how much her story would be like those, before it was too late.

The day she died is muddy, in her memory. Yet another thing she sacrificed, in order to stay in this world. A deafening whistle, followed by walls collapsing around her. Streaks of ash on the bloodless face of her mama. Pain, unlike anything she could imagine. The voices of her baba and brother and uncle, searching. The sickening shifting of concrete above her, whispers praying for mercy, the walls closing in on her-

And she dies.

At seven, before she knew how to write the alphabet, buried beneath the earth with only the pale face of her mother as comfort, Farah Ahmed Karim died. Yet, she did not move on.

The memory of the first time she saw her Reaper was clear. She may have forgotten her mother’s lullabies, or her father’s laughter. She has not been given the privilege to forget her Reaping.

The first thing she noticed was the clean air, an odd odor to it but blessedly lacking the dust she has been inhaling for what felt like hours. The lack of pain was the second - her legs no longer crushed under thick concrete walls.

The monster, was the third. A being made of sharp shapes, glistening metal melting and hardening, flowing through cracks in the stone face of the Reaper.

As the stone face moved, grinding against itself, Farah got up to her feet. Her legs screamed at her to run, but the memory of her baba’s stories calmed her. 

“The ones who take do not mean harm to the ones who sacrifice, Farah.” he told her, whispering as to not wake her brother, “they need each other. They need our sacrifice.”

“What for, baba? Why would the ones who take need to give humans their powers?”

Baba sighs, a small smile on his lips as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear, “we don’t know for sure, but we must have something they don’t. Some say we humans were chosen by chance.”

“What do you think?” she asks, her endless craving to know more yet satiated.

“I think we and the ones who take are connected, somehow. I think we are the only ones that can sacrifice.”

Instead of running, instead of listening to all of her senses, Farah stepped forward, and with a small voice asked, “w-who are you?”

The stone face turns to stare at her.

“I AM MIGHT. THE STONE, THE BLADE, THE BULLET.”

The Reaper tilts its head, metal rivers splashing into an endless void.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”

Farah blinks away the tears that have gathered in her eyes, tries to speak louder, “I’m… I’m Farah? I’m a human, I’m-”

“YOU ARE NOT HUMAN, FARAH. YOU ARE DEAD, BURIED, CRUSHED.”

Her lips turn downwards, and she can’t stop the tears any longer, “w-why are you asking if you know?”

The rocks grind in an almost rhythmic way, and somehow Farah knows it is laughing. It makes her avert her eyes.

“Can… can you save my mama?” she asks, and the sound stops.

“I CANNOT SAVE YOUR MOTHER, FARAH.”

“S-she… I think she also died, can you-”

“I CANNOT SAVE YOUR MOTHER, FARAH.”

She grasps at the torn edges of her dress, sniffing her runny nose, “it’s not… it’s not fair…” her face scrunches as she sobs.

The Reaper leans forward, the light surrounding it reflecting with dazzling colors off of its body. Farah closes her eyes, not because she is afraid of it, but because she is afraid for her mama.

“I CANNOT SAVE HER, BUT I CAN SAVE YOU.”

Farah opens her eyes. Baba said he thinks only humans can sacrifice, but maybe not all humans can. Maybe mama wasn’t able to sacrifice, but…

She lifts her hands to wipe roughly at her face, tears and snot smearing on her skin. Her eyes trail up the falling liquid metal, beating heart deafening her ears.

Her voice is steady when she says, “I want to see baba and Hadir. I don’t want to leave them!”

The stones grind once more, a sort of excitement shaking the very ground.

“YOU WANT TO LIVE, FARAH.”

She nods and repeats, “I-I want to live!”

The Reaper tilts closer, its face level with hers.

“I WILL GIVE YOU THE MIGHT, THE STRENGTH, THE POWER TO LIVE, FARAH. AND I WILL TAKE YOUR SOUL.”

The metal drips near her feet, heat emanating from them. It reminds her of home.

“I choose to sacrifice. For you, for baba, for Hadir. For… for mama.” Farah whispers.

The stones shift, circling her. Her breath picks up at the thoughts of crushing walls, but it is not dark here. No one is shouting. She doesn’t smell death.

 Metal singes her clothes, and she wants to jump back, but the stones stop her. It burns. It hurts.

It is not dark, but the bright colors blind her all the same.

“I ACCEPT YOUR SACRIFICE, FARAH.”

“MY MIGHT IS YOURS.”

When she wakes again, Farah doesn’t feel pain. She’s still under ruin, somewhere different from where she was before. All she sees of her mama is a hand, and she holds it. She notices the skin of her own hand glistening in the meager light filtering through dust and ash, like colorful metal. Like her Reaper.

It felt like hours pass before baba found her. She feels hunger and thirst, but the weight of the building doesn’t pain her anymore. Baba is crying when he finds her, pulls her out of the wreckage carefully, asking if she’s hurt.

She tells him nothing hurts. He pulls back from their embrace, his brows scrunched in confusion until he notices.

“I chose sacrifice, baba.”

Baba closes his eyes and hugs her harder, and she knows it would’ve hurt if she could feel it. He tells her everything will be alright. She wanted to believe it. She couldn’t.

They find mama. Hadir tries to wake her up, but Farah pulls his hands away. She tells him mama is in another place now, somewhere better than here. Hadir’s hands shake in hers, but he nods and pulls away.

Uncle and baba rush them home. Farah wants to cover her ears, the sirens don’t stop sounding, the noise pitching up and down along with her heart. Loud explosions make her flinch, so Hadir grabs her hand. It makes her feel safer, for a moment.

They run through the market. There’s a truck stopping in their way.

The Russians.

Baba lifts her in his arms, Uncle taking Hadir. They tell them to cover their mouth, when the Russians throw weird gas at them. It smells like the liquid mama used to clean their house, and it made her eyes itch and burn.

They enter their home, but baba doesn’t stop moving. He gives Hadir a gas mask. He will have to share his with Farah. Uncle leaves, telling baba he’ll meet them later.

“W-where are we going?” Hadir asks, clutching the mask.

Baba grabs a backpack, hidden behind the kitchen cabinets, “we’re going to the bridge, then to the mountains. There will be no sirens there.”

Farah hurries to follow him, wiping blood on her dress. Her skin isn’t bruised, but it feels weird.

“I don’t want to go…” Hadir says with a frown. Baba turns to look at him. He crouches and pets his shoulder.

“I know, dearest. I know. We will return, I promise.” his tone changed, stern like when he taught her not to touch the hot pan, “you need to be strong for your sister now, alright?”

Baba points to Hadir’s heart, “you keep mama here,” his hand moves to his head, “and you keep this clear. That’s how we survive, you understand?”

“Yes, baba.”

Baba shoulders the backpack, and begins walking towards the door, “when we get outside, you stay with me, okay?”

As he goes to open it, the handle moves, and the whole frame shakes. Someone is trying to get in.

“Stay behind me!”

The door slams open, a large man with a gas mask walking in. Farah takes a step back. The man meets her eyes and closes the door, and she stares at his gun.

Baba pleads with the man. He does not listen.

Baba throws his backpack at him, the man shooting a couple of bullets into the floor. They miss Farah’s feet by a few centimeters, and she freezes, breath held in her lungs. Hadir throws himself against the man, but gets shoved back.

The man pulls out a knife, baba manages to take it, stab the man. But it doesn’t change a thing.

It doesn’t save him, when the man pushes him to the floor, and shoots one, two, three, four bullets.

Only then do her feet unstick, and she mutters to herself, “hide!”

She runs back to her and Hadir’s room, crawling under the bed. The man shouts angrily and she hears something break.

Hadir. She needs to help Hadir!

As the man talks to someone on his phone, Farah crawls towards the kitchen, finding a knife. Mama always warned her not to play with them, but if the man catches Hadir…

In her heart, she asks for forgiveness from mama.

When she finds the man, he’s leaning against a wall, his hand clutching his side. Before she can think it over, Farah lowers and slashes at his legs. The man screams in pain, shooting a few bullets at the ground, and turns around to slap her.

It doesn’t hurt, but she drops the knife, so she runs away again.

One of baba’s tools is on the ground, must’ve fallen from his backpack. She grabs it and continues running, the man on her tail now.

The man says mean words to her, in Arabic, but her ears are pounding, her own heavy breaths the only thing she can hear. Her grip on the tool tightens.

“I’m going to kill you!”

Farah watches the man stumble in the hallway, searching.

“You’re going to see father soon, you piece of shit child!”

He trips on the rug. She sneaks closer.

“You’re dead, you hear me?! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!”

Farah runs forward, aiming for his other leg, but he turns around and grabs her hand before she can stab him.

“There you are!” he grabs her by the neck, slamming her to the floor, “got you!”

She can feel his hand wrap around her, crushing her windpipe, but it doesn’t hurt. The man grunts, before he freezes.

“You’re- you’re one of them?!”

Hadir jumps on the man’s shoulders, screaming, “get off her!!!”. He uses the knife she dropped to stab him in the neck, “get him, Farah, now!”

Farah grabs the tool, and uses all her strength to stab it into the man’s chest. He screams as flesh gives under the metal.

“It’s working! Again, sister!”

She pulls it out, and repeats.

“Good, Farah!”

And again.

Four times, until the man stops moving and making any sound. Farah takes his mask, the gun too heavy and tool buried in his gut.

Farah and Hadir return to baba. Hadir tries to help him up, but baba stops him.

“I can’t… I can’t go with you.”

Tears well in her eyes. Baba is leaving as well.

Hadir wraps his hands around baba’s, “what do we do?”

“You survive. Whatever it takes.” he turns to look at Farah, “even… even your sacrifice. Never give…up…”

Baba’s head drops. He’s gone.

Hadir stares at him for a moment longer. He gets up, “let’s go.”

They weave through the town, a murky green tinting the air. People are gasping and coughing around them, until a gunshot silences them. Hadir says it’s not fair. Farah knows.

It’s not fair, that they pass by people who get shot, and don’t get back up. It’s not fair, that she has to kill twice more, just for them to get a chance at freedom.

It’s not fair, when a man drags both of them away from it, a cruel smile on his lips as he inspects her.

It’s not fair, that she knows to recognize the malice in his eyes.

The soldiers take them to a prison. They find out she is one of those who sacrificed.

It’s not fair, she tells to the Reaper in her heart, that her sacrifice was not enough to save anyone.

She learns very quickly to hate Barkov. He learns, quicker, that his usual torture methods don’t work on her. He finds her weakness not in her own flesh, but in the flesh of the others. Hadir, in most cases. They keep the men and women separated, only allowing her to see him once every few weeks, and every time she gives them trouble, he takes the punishment. He tries to hide it, but he can’t hide his limp, or his bloodshot eyes, or the scars that keep multiplying upon his skin.

Contrasted with her flawless arms, glistening oddly in the light.

She gets into fights with her Reaper, in the earlier days. Demanding answers, for the simple question of “why?”.

Why her? Why this power, that only protects her? Why taunt her, tell her she’s under the Reaper of Might, yet show her every day how weak she is?

There are whispers among the guards, of a person by the name of “Karim”. A Commander, aiding the prisoners, attempting to contact foreign forces by transmitting messages from the inside. Barkov spends hours torturing her and the others, trying to find them. After a while, Farah notices a glint of playfulness in the wretched man’s eyes.

He knows who Karim is. He just wants to break them, annihilate the sense of fragile hope Karim gives the prisoners.

Barkov wants their spirit broken. Farah knows he will fail, because as long as any of them stand, they will not give up. For those who can't fight any longer, for those who are still with them in this hell, for Urzikstan.

They think one can uproot it from them. What they don’t know, will never understand, is that you can’t kill an idea. You can’t torture the memory of freedom out of them.

The soldiers seem on edge, mumbling in Russian about rumors of enemy forces invading Urzikstan. One of them slaps the back of her head when she stares too long.

The cycle continues - Barkov interrogates her, always keeping another prisoner in the room to torture in her place. Today it is Azadeh, younger than her by two years. Azadeh doesn’t flinch at the glint of a knife, but she screams as Barkov buries it in her thigh.

Farah’s guts burn at her wailing, at Barkov’s cocksure grin, his hand easily yanking the knife out of spasming muscles.

She breaks. Tells him she is Karim. It feels like an end.

Barkov freezes, before he pounces. Knocking her out of the chair, he covers her mouth, pinches her nose, deprives her of air.

Not many things can hurt her, but Farah still needs oxygen to live. Her wrists twitch roughly against the bindings tying her to the chair, Azadeh calls for her. Barkov snarls.

“I will not let terrorists like you ruin my country.”

My country… My country?

Urzikstan will never kneel to the likes of you.

As the edges of her vision darken, a soldier bursts into the room, his movements rushed as he informs Barkov the prison is under attack.

Barkov, always needing to have the last laugh, tells her she hasn’t saved anyone, that Karim’s role was only to doom her people, and orders his soldiers to the warehouse, to kill everyone.

Air fills her lungs as she inhales for the first time in over a minute. Barkov tells the man to take Azadeh to the warehouse, and her to solitary confinement. She gives Azadeh an encouraging nod, before they’re separated.

Karim hasn’t failed yet. As long as they’re still alive, she hasn’t failed.

Solitary is part of the older section of the building. Farah has been here enough times to know the rebar in the far corner of the cell is loose, and she herself have made sure, should the need arise, it will be easy to extract from the cracked concrete floor.

The moment the soldiers leave, she gets to work, pulling the metal with a grunt. With a few well-placed hits, Farah breaks the lock, and opens the door.

It is silent outside, in the way a graveyard is. Something sick spreads on her tongue, as she sneaks out of solitary. A few soldiers are making their way to the main cell block, to take the remaining prisoners to the warehouse, Farah assumes. The rebar feels lighter in her hands.

The first soldier she hits over the head screams as he goes down. The rest instinctively start shooting her. It doesn’t do much to stop her from caving their skulls in, besides ripping a few new holes into her clothes.

Searching the bodies yields her a key and an extra mag for one of the rifles. All of them were either empty or jammed, the frantic soldiers not recognizing her.

For them, all Urzik are the same.

Her sisters are relieved to see her approach. The gunshots scared them, fearing it was anyone but her. She opens the cell, freeing them. She uses the key to open a gun locker, and orders them to take up arms. No hesitation is visible on their faces. They all know this is an end.

Of the soldiers or theirs, it is yet to be seen.

“Our brothers have been taken to the warehouse to be executed. We are not going to let that happen.” Farah snarls, fingers aching as she grips the rifle, “are we?”

“No, Commander!” her sisters yell in unison.

Farah feels pride bubble up within her. They haven’t broken their spirit.

A series of far away explosions makes their little group flinch. Ayah asks, “who is attacking us, Commander? Are they on our side?”

“I don’t know. And as long as they distract Barkov and his dogs, it doesn’t matter. We need to move before it’s too late.”

They slam open the doors, Russian soldiers already ready at the other side. Her sisters’ aim is wobbly, the recoil more than they’ve experienced, but they have one thing the Russians don’t.

They don’t fear death anymore.

Nadia was injured in the firefight against a sniper. Ghalia has been limping since an explosion knocked her down. Darine and Azadeh are tired, they’ve been in solitary for days with little to no food or water.

They manage to hole up in the warehouse, but there’s no one there. Farah shouts for Hadir, her echo the only answer.

“Commander!” Azadeh calls, “there’s a way through here, this is must be where they are!”

Farah kicks the door open, turning right to clear the hallway, when a body slams into her from the left. She falls to the ground heavily, teeth bared as a barrel lines with her forehead. The other two soldiers aim at her sisters, Azadeh screaming in horror, “please don’t shoot!”

For a moment, Farah loses hope. Her mind supplies her with Barkov’s words.

“You haven’t saved anyone.”

In the next, the skylights shatter. Precise bullets take out the three soldiers, not a single wasted shot. Ropes are thrown through the broken windows, and men wearing gas masks repel down. One of them looks at her, “Whose Commander Karim?”

Farah huffs as she pushes a dead body off of her, “I’m Karim.”

The soldier swings his weapon to the side, “we got your message” he lifts the mask up, revealing a pale face, “Lieutenant John Price. Where are the others?”

The Lieutenant offers her a hand, and Farah grunts as he lifts her, “in there. Straight ahead.”

Price looks at the dark hallway, before turning back and lowering his mask, “stay close!”

Azadeh’s expression is uncertain when Farah stops her from following them. Wordlessly, she nods and returns to her wounded sisters’ side. They both know the path ahead is meant only for trained soldiers.

Trained soldiers, and those who cannot die to a bullet.

Farah keeps her rifle up as the soldiers and her scan the hall. Tanks with warning signs plastered on their exterior line the narrow passage way, and she doesn’t need to know Russian to know what’s inside.

“Got two!” Price warns, and takes out one of the guards. The other doesn’t waste time watching his partner go down, and before one of Price’s soldiers puts a bullet in his head, he aims and shoots Farah.

Straight shot to her heart. These guards are more skilled than the ones she fought through to get here.

Two hands clamp onto her shoulders, and Price’s wide eyes stare at her through the gas mask, “you’re not wearing armor- Karim, sit the fuck down, I saw the bullet hit you-!”

Farah frowns, following his line of sight to the hole in her shirt.

“Lieutenant-”

He holds her as if she’s about to collapse, muttering, “why are you not bleeding…”

Farah grabs his hands, and the Lieutenant’s brows shoot up.

“You’re a revenant.” his hands loosen, and drop to his side.

Farah nods, “no bullet or blade can hurt me.”

Something odd passes by Price’s eyes, but he doesn’t say anything to indicate what.

“Lieutenant, the prisoners are here! We need the breacher for the door!”

They run towards the back, and Farah slides to a stop at the scene.

In a room with large bullet-proof windows, where fire wars with the Russian’s sickly green gas, her brothers pound on the glass, their screams muffled.

They were going to watch them suffocate and burn.

She shakes out of her stupor when she notices Hadir. Slumped in the corner by a door, unmoving.

“You haven’t saved anyone.”

Farah runs to the other side of the door, where Price and his men are attempting to pry open it. They don’t have time for this.

“Stand back!” she grunts, and Price barely pulls the other soldier away before she shoots 4 bullets into the lock.

She barely manages to catch Hadir when the door slams open, her brothers running out towards fresh air. She should feel happiness, that they were fast enough to save them.

But in her arms is the still body of her brother, the one who has been through this hell with her from the beginning. The one with their mama’s eyes, and their baba’s kindness. Farah feels tears run down her face as she presses two fingers to his pulse. Nothing.

There are voices around her, speaking to her. She doesn’t hear a thing. No sound is worth hearing when her brother’s heart does not beat.

Price crouches in front of her, his mask off despite the gas filtering in from the room. His voice is gentle when he speaks, “Karim… we need to move.”

She shakes her head. It reminds her of how Hadir didn’t want to leave their house, when baba knew they had no choice. She has no choice but to leave him.

Oh, how could she leave him like this?

As the Lieutenant urges her again, as her brothers and sisters start to realize what happened, as Farah’s fingers stay on a paling wrist, she feels it.

A heartbeat.

Hadir gasps, his hands shoot up to claw at his neck frantically, and he jumps away from Farah. Everyone is watching him carefully as he catches his breath, silent and knowing.

Farah clenches her fists, failing to quell the shaking, “...why…?”

Why did you choose this over seeing mama and baba again?

Hadir turns to face her, but his eyes don’t meet hers. They’re not the blue-gray they were before, she notices. Green, like the gas that killed him.

“You survive, whatever it takes. Never give up.” Hadir repeats their baba’s last words. “Not even death will come between us, sister. Not anymore.”

“May your soul find rest.” she says, and her brothers and sisters murmur it with her. Hadir then lifts his gaze, and he gives her a sad smile.

Price and his soldiers stand back, looking properly shaken by seeing a dead man return. For them it is an anomaly.

In Urzikstan, they all know what a sacrifice looks like.

Farah gives herself a moment more to mourn Hadir, mourn the peace he refused to receive in death.

She gets up, grips her rifle, and orders her people, “collect survivors and supplies. We’re leaving.”

“Sister.”

She stops cleaning her knife for a moment, acknowledging Hadir’s presence with a nod, before continuing, “any sign of Barkov?”

Hadir drags a chair to sit in front of her, “no, we’re secure here. The Lieutenant cleared the area well.” he watches her hands work on the sharpening metal, “I… I wanted to tell you about my powers.”

Her hand freezes. “Immunity to the gas. I know.”

“No.”

Farah opens her mouth to question him, but when she looks up at Hadir…

Mist flows from his eyes and nose, pouring down his features. Green, toxic, smells of chemicals and death.

When he speaks, more gas flows from his mouth, “I’m not only immune, sister. I can create it.” fear paints his words.

“Enough.” she orders, though to her ears it sounds more like begging. Hadir stops using his power all the same, and it is with shame that he looks at the thin level of gas coating the floor of the run-down room.

Farah puts the knife and whetstone away, and hugs Hadir. He presses closer, and she feels his body tremble with silent sobs.

“You will not use this power. We do not need weapons of the enemy to win this war.” Her brother may be doomed, cursed forever to bear the gas within him, but it does not mean he needs to continue Barkov’s legacy.

Hadir doesn’t respond for a while, but when he pulls back, he nods. “Yes, Commander Karim.” he says, pride in the title. “What are your orders to our brothers and sisters?”

Farah sheaths the knife, her voice strong and clear, “Barkov must’ve had more prisons. It’s time we find more hands to help our cause.”

Alex Keller is… odd.

He had a surface level knowledge of the situation in Urzikstan when he arrived. Not from a tactical standpoint - CIA doesn’t let details like those escape them, of course. But from a human’s, and perhaps a revenant’s, it was clear Alex was not used to seeing such disgusting levels of violence unhidden for all to see. Barkov doesn’t need to hide it. America already knows.

The world already knows.

Keller’s abilities as a revenant proved advantageous from the very first mission they had. Infiltrating has never been easier, with a man able to become invisible to the naked eye. Later on he has told her of his weaknesses, that his form is still corporal even when see-through, and that electronic optics are able to catch traces of him. His honesty doesn’t go unnoticed, and Farah appreciates the trust he puts in her.

Hadir didn’t trust him at first. Despite his relation to Captain Price, he was wary of the American. It didn’t matter much to Farah, as long as they were amicable enough to work together, but seeing Hadir slowly let his guard down over the weeks was a moment of happiness in her days.

It helps most in days when Hadir seems distant, when a fog she can only call a thirst for revenge clouds his eyes. It feels like the times she has to fight against his violent suggestions double every new mission.

Something is brewing in his mind, she can tell. Hadir doesn’t want to share it with her.

At least Alex doesn’t push back against her orders with no good reason…

They’re on ground now, Alex using Hadir’s Sniper to scope the Highway of Death, and Farah spotting for him. They’re waiting for forces of Al-Mudahiyn, The Sacrificers, to pass through.

Al-Mudahiyn and the ULF used to be one and the same, until they weren’t. They share the goal of liberation, but where the ULF chooses to prioritize the safety of the people of Urzikstan, The Sacrificers choose the retribution on the Russians to be theirs.

Liberation will not be achieved peacefully, Farah knows that. But revenge won’t bring it either, and as much as she would hate it if it were to happen, if she had the choice to free her country but let her oppressors walk away unharmed, she would. She is sick of seeing her brothers and sisters die, and sacrifice, and bow their heads to men who see them as lesser.

In that, Al-Mudahiyn and her disagree. The militia focuses its powers on creating chaos among the Russian’s ranks, within Russia itself, and anywhere where its sympathizers live. And while they both deal in violence, Farah cannot agree to it being the objective.

It is a tool. One she will wield only as long as her enemy does. 

The SAS and CIA have begun to retaliate against Al-Mudahiyn, as has Barkov, their actions too flashy to ignore. Stealing several containers of Russian experimental gas was the last nail in the coffin.

The ULF along with Captain Price’s team decided to work together to stop them.

“One vehicle approaching from the east!”

On her mark, Alex takes down the two snipers that attempted to set up on the roof. Killing them is a calculated risk; it could alert their target and cause them to change course, but leaving them alive could’ve risked Hadir and his team, who are nearer to the road.

Two fighters from Hadir’s team take the truck and park it in the middle of the highway as a makeshift blockade. She watches as they rig it up with explosives, and orders them to wait for her signal.

Their target, as do many in The Sacrificers’ ranks, is a revenant. According to Alex’s sources in the CIA, they’re just a Revenant of Flesh. Their healing powers could save them from some injuries, but an explosion should kill them.

And if the explosion doesn’t do them in, bullets will.

They were ready for an ambush. Armored trucks, snipers, mortar teams.

“We need help! Where is Captain Price?!” Farah shouts as she fires on a few fighters making their way through the ruined house they’ve taken cover in. Alex pops up to shoot as well, but she pushes him behind her when a few bullets hit too close for comfort.

Her clothes are riddled with holes.

Hadir shouts from the rooftop beside theirs, “we cannot wait! I’ve got more firepower in the truck!” an explosion shakes the foundations of the house, “Alex! Follow me!”

Alex looks back at her, and she nods. Hadir’s intuition never failed them, his habit of preparing for the worst saved operations more than once. He’s not her second-in-command just because of their blood relation, she trusts him more than anyone else.

That is why, when green, toxic gas started covering the abandoned village rapidly, Farah didn’t dare think it was him. Hadir wouldn’t do that, he promised her.

She hears him shout to Alex that there are gas masks in the bunker. It should’ve tipped her off. It didn’t.

Coughing horribly, she ran towards the bunker, her steps unsteady as the gas coats her lungs. She has never forgotten the way it claws down her throat, burning, seizing her muscles.

Alex comes into view just as Farah’s vision begins to fade, and the last words she hears singe worse than any chemical could.

“H-Hadir… You’re… a revenant?”

When she comes to, it’s to the smell of dust. Her throat still burns, but as she coughs, she feels clean air filter through her nose. Farah blinks her eyes open, to see Hadir equip a gas mask on Alex’s face. He notices her eyes following his movements.

“Sister…” Hadir leaves Alex to approach her, his arms open. Before, she would’ve taken comfort to see he is not injured.

Now, all she sees is anger. Green, sickly, violent anger.

Farah pushes him away, but she is weakened, so his arms don’t leave hers, “how could you do this?!”

He tries to placate her. It makes her shake with exertion to get away. “I had no choice, Farah! I-”

“No. Not like this.” her eyes roll back, and before she loses consciousness again, she mumbles, “you promised…”

“-Farah!… Alex!”

She grunts. Her arms feel weighted when she pushes the dusty gas mask up and off her face. Alex does the same, trying to get up on his feet and failing.

Price’s voice invades her mind, and she winces. It is an unfamiliar feeling, still. “You’re alright, Farah. You’re alright.”

Still unused to the powers, she chooses to speak, “where is he…? Where is he?!”

Price finally reaches them, helping Farah get up, only for her to push off to rush out the crooked door, “he’s gone, Farah…”

She snarls. How dare he run, how could he leave- “no… Hadir… HADIR!!!”

“Farah!” Price follows her, catching her when she stumbles on the steps outdoors, “Farah, stop! Stop, he’s gone!”

Her fists clench on dry earth and she screams. Coward, liar, monster. No curse is bad enough to describe that fucking dog.

She feels Price wrap an arm around her, not to support, but to comfort. It reminds her why they’re here in the first place.

“There is no thief.” she tilts her head up, staring at Price’s blue-gray eyes. His brows knit in confusion, and she continues, “he created the gas. I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t know, I didn’t know…”

She feels Price pull images from her memories. She lets him.

The Captain looks through her interactions with Hadir for the past few weeks. At first, Farah thinks he doesn’t believe her word, but Price relays to her that he’s not doing it for himself.

He’s proving her she’s not at fault.

“There’s no way you could’ve known, Farah.” he says out loud.

Alex joins him behind them, leaning on another soldier, “it’s okay, Farah. We’ll get him.”

She wants to bristle at those almost meaningless comforting gestures, but the look in Alex’s eyes is pleading her to let it go, for now.

Price helps her up again, shouting to Alex, “we need to un-ass this target- NOW!”

As they board the helicopter, Farah looks down.

Corpses line the desolate streets, no bird dares to sing at the sight. Both Al-Mudahiyn and ULF fighters lay still, eyes bulging and throat scratched raw. She grits her teeth, but her eyes don’t stray from the sight, even as the aircraft rises to the air.

Alex places a hand on her shoulder after a while, a questioning hum following.

She shakes her head, and with it his hand.

A voice that has haunted her for the last two decades drifts closer to her, whispering into her ears a sentence she hates to acknowledge has never been wrong.

“You haven’t saved anyone.”

At twenty-seven, Farah Ahmed Karim has lost the last remaining blood relative she had. There was no one left to mourn, except her.

In a dusty helicopter, with the smell of noxious gas still in her every breath, Farah promised to find him, the walking corpse of her brother, and stop him before he drags more of them down.

And unlike the man who once was her brother, Farah keeps her promises.

[panther-os]

Full Name and Family Headcanons

For the extended 141 family plus the fruity bastard betrayer (derogatory (affectionate)), some more complete than others. If any of this is directly contradicted by canon, I don't care, that's why they're headcanons

Soap

John Steven Donald MacTavish

Two loving parents, the youngest with at least 3 older siblings, all sisters. Closely enough related to the Chief of the Name and Arms of MacTavish to a) be considered low upper class and b) know his exact place in the line of hereditary succession. Also the kilt he wears on special occasions is always the modern MacTavish tartan, do your research. Grew up in Bonnyrigg outside Edinburgh and is emotionally attached to Sir Salter Scott

Ghost

Simon Lorcán Riley

Same family and circumstances as '09 Ghost (extremely poor, abusive dad, oldest of two boys), but give him loving maternal grandparents and three cousins. He's Irish by ethnicity and heritage, which a few family members kept alive and passed down to him, but British by nationality. His great-great-(great-?)grandparents migrated to Manchester during the Great Hunger, but his aunt moved back to Ballylongford where some of the family originally lived. His cousins and maternal grandmother are all alive but think he's dead and he keeps it that way for their safety. His middle name is after his maternal grandfather who died when he was young and was given to him by his grandma. I do also hc he's trans and have a deadname headcanon for him but I don't share those. The specific neighborhood he grew up in inside Manchester was Beswick

Gaz

Kyle Adam Garrick

Grew up in Brixton in London, relatively poor with two loving but working parents, but also with an enormous tight-knit community and more neighborhood aunties and uncles and cousins than he knew what to do with. Has one baby sister but she's 20 years younger than him so she's a baby baby and he was already enlisted and moved out when she was born

Price

John Matthew Price

Grew up in Anfield in Liverpool, near the football stadium. Avid fan, ropes Ghost into Liverpool vs Man United debates every season. Ghost doesn't even like football. Middle class, working dad and stay at home mom, older sister, younger sister

Roach

Gary Parker Sanderson

Working poor, older sister, younger brother

Laswell

Katherine Emma Laswell

Middle class child of divorce, no step-siblings or step-parents, lesbian wine aunt who's basically Kate Kane (coincidentally Kate's favorite superhero)

Nikolai

Nikolai Antonovich Pokrovsky

Absent parents, one younger sister

Farah

Farah Leyla Karim

Canon family - two loving parents killed by AQ, one older brother. Her middle name is the Georgian spelling of the Arabic name Layla (see my post about Urzikstan and Abkhazia for why this spelling)

Alex

Alexander Jeremiah Keller

Two older sisters, two triplet sisters (one an hour older, one three hours younger), two younger sisters, single mom, also raised by aunt and grandmother

Alejandro

Alejandro Ernesto Vargas Leon

Grew up working poor, dad died when he was three, mom had to work, older brother 4ys older took jobs for the cartel starting at 12-ish to make ends meet and left Ale as the "man of the house" at 8. Also has one 4ys younger sister (same dad, mom was pregnant) and 12ys younger twin baby brothers (different dad who chose not to be in the picture, oopsie babies). He loves the twins but wants to hang them upside down by their shoelaces more often than not, his sister is just as mischievous but more mature and subtle about it which made her easier to raise

Rudy

Rodolfo Ildefonso Parra Rosales

Born into a poor family, cartel killed his parents when he was three, adopted by a single mom after that. His new family is unrelated to the Cartel but his bisabuela is just as feared and respected as El Sin Nombre and La Araña before her, if not more in some parts of the city. Learned his best chancla skills from her. Only child but grew up in a massive multigenerational multifamily home with at least 20 older cousins - was the baby until he was 7 and now he's the second youngest

Graves

Phillip Windsor Graves

Upper class, born to parents who had an heir to the company because it was expected of them but who didn't actually want or like kids. Essentially raised by a rotating cast of nannies