Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

epilogue

One year later...

"For fucks sake," you sighed, before taking your fourth shot of liquor. "I can't believe you coerced me into doing taking another shot."

The bar bustled with chatter and laughter and mindless, drunk conversation, the clinging of bottles and plates and glasses, the sound of balls clicking against sticks by the pool table. You heard a familiar laugh from behind you, and turned around to glance behind you nervously. "My boyfriends are gonna kill me..."

"What was that?" the man sitting across from you asking at the bar table.

It was late at night in the summertime, late July in Austria. The Task Force had came back to Austria for a bit so that Captain Price could discuss some business with the commander of German Special Forces, bringing the Task Force with him, including Simon. You were elated to see him again, and shockingly, so was Kilgore. They had became good friends over the past year, and you and Kilgore would often leave the country to see Simon, and Simon would even sometimes come to see you.

Everything was perfect, and after Captain Price finished his business here in Austria with the Commander, you planned to go to England with Simon and Kilgore and, finally, settle down.

"Nothing," you waved off awkwardly. "Hey. What did you say your name was again?"

"Harry."

You crinkled your nose up. "That's a weird name."

"Hey, you know who you kind of look like?" the stranger, Harry, said abruptly, jabbing his finger in your direction, leaning casually on the slick, marble bar table. "That one prima ballerina. Clara... something. I can't pronounce her last name. Has anyone ever told you that?"

You sighed, rolled your eyes, shook your head, and then rested your chin on your palm. "You have no idea."

You then felt a large, unmistakable presence approaching you from behind, and as if you had some kind of extra sense, you stiffened and your whole body rose with goosebumps. You could see Harry's face flash with confusion in your peripheral, about to inquire why you looked so alert, but he was cut off.

"Getting to know our girl, are you?" a rough, gravelly British accent, low and seductive, yet just as threatening. You'd know that voice anywhere. Simon "Ghost" Riley.

"O-Oh... Hi?" Harry stammered, throwing his hands up to defend himself as Simon towered over him. Harry had stood up, embarrassed, to greet Simon, unaware of the additional presence beside him — König. Kilgore.

They were not wearing their masks — it was a public bar in the middle of nowhere, and there was no threat to them revealing their faces. So they did. And God, did they look scary looking down upon Harry like that, arms crossed, death stares, a frown upon Kilgore's face and a devilish smile on Simon's. You felt nervous for Harry.

They didn't have to speak. The scars on both their faces, the tattoos running up and down Simon's arms, the menacing glares, their bulky bodies, long legs, intimidating demeanor... It did the talking for them. You felt a weird sense of pride and humor swell in your chest. My boys.

"I'm..." Harry began, swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his nervousness and fear evident on his expression, "I.. better get home. Bye." He waved a hand up to you and scurried off with his tail between his legs. When he was gone, Kilgore and Simon visibly relaxed their tense bodies: