Gloss and Salt | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Epilouge

Ghost's finger twitches over the trigger. Breath leaves his lungs, steadying the crosshair over the head of the man. A few muscles tense up, the trigger passes the 6 pound pressure wall and the bullet is loose. A body collapses on the roof, the remains of his personality fall around him in chunks of brain matter. Suppressors only do so much, thankfully the general noise of the chemical plant gets rid of any other noise that might draw attention to him.

"Sergeant Major, be advised, one approaching from your left."

Gaz's voice is filtered through the comms, a calm breeze as always. She doesn't answer. Ghost's scope wanders to her last approximate position on a roof just below the one he just took out the guard. Her silhouette takes shape further down, hanging from a steel pipe by her hands and legs that connects two buildings, overhead of a corridor. Shadows swallow her with the light fixture just three feet below her. There's still no skip in his pulse as he takes in her figure, just like when there's none when Soap or any of the guys engage targets. Exactly how he told Price. Her presence in the field would change nothing. Adrenaline levels stay the same as he watches her close her legs around the pipe further, anchoring herself to it.

"I'll build yer a bloody shrine if you pull this off lass." comes Soap's voice through the comms, just about when she lets go, hanging upside down from the pipe to loop her arm around the poor sop's throat. Her form shakes with the man thrashing and clawing at her but she's relentless, only letting go when the body goes limp in her grip. A quick draw of her pistol takes care of the light fixture, bathing her and the unconscious man in shadows again. "Like a piece of fucking cake, ey?" Soap starts up again.

"Soap, shut up, fucking hell." she answers in a strained whisper, probably carrying the body to a more inconspicuous location.

A mechanical whirr makes Ghost look up from his scope, the drone Gaz pilots just a few yards down from him changing position.

"How's it looking Gaz?" Price inquiries. The drone rises high, scanning for heat signatures outside of the buildings.

"Looking clean Sir. We're good to go."

If anything, her proximity on missions serves to center Ghost. Clear his head out to focus on what's in front of him even more. They clean house before the mercenaries even know what hit them. A swath of acidic stench wafts around them while bodies drop like flies in the formerly abandoned chemical plant, now used to siphon dangerous explosive materials and corrosive chemicals from scrap.

"Gloss, give me a sitrep." Ghost requests after sweeping the area one more time, Price and Gaz following close behind him.
"All quiet over on our side Lieutenant. Think it's time we'll call in the cleanup crew."

It's hard to sus out who outranks who, but she made sure to tell Price that her rank was a mere formality, stating that her work with the NSA "thoroughly disconnected her from her identity as a commanding officer, all that remains on paper is that she retired as Sergeant Major'' and that was that. That doesn't prevent the definitefly lower ranking Soap from trying to test her every now and then, like he is now as they wait on the roof for exfil.

"So, when's the weddin' eh? Have ta be quick lass, Lt.'s usually not one for stickin' around."

His voice is hushed, knowing that if Ghost hears him he's probably in for a beating. The last weeks have shown that to not work though, so to Ghost's surprise, she goes with a different approach.
"Me neither, so we have that in common I guess. Ask him, maybe you'll be his best man Johnny." she answers back in a normal tone, knowing that Ghost is well within earshot of them.

Hair falls over her shoulders as she pulls off her balaclava, revealing smug features that revel in Soap's horror at her response. His mouth snaps shut, the response dying on his tongue when Ghost's gaze falls onto him. It irritates him more than anything, for both her and him. Soap means well, he always does, but Ghost is hurting when she shies away from every meager touch of his when they're on a mission in fear of wedging herself between something she shouldn't. No matter how many times Ghost told her that she's been with them for the better part of a year now, that nothing has changed in the field, but the wound that the NSA left by discharging her hasn't closed yet.