Chapter Text
It’s not every day you get flown off to Mexico to join a mission to bring in a wanted terrorist. But today was your lucky day you guessed. It was a bit strange though, you had never worked or fought with the other officers before, but Laswell recommended you for a position on this mission. Either way, it would be a great opportunity for you, providing you survive it. Trying to not let nerves get the best of you, you hopped off the heli at the base in Las Almas, keeping an eye out for Colonel Vargas, or anyone else you were told you would be working with.
A tall man with a skull mask caught your eye, no doubt this was the infamous Ghost. Anyone in this business has heard of Ghost; however only a handful have laid eyes on him and lived to tell the tale. You hurried over, trying to keep some confidence in your stride.
“Ah, I presume you’re Lieutenant (L/N). You’re late.” Colonel Vargas called to you before you even got to the group, the other 3 men turned to look at you.
“Apologies fellas,” you glanced around, all eyes were on you, “I’m Lieutenant (Y/N) (L/N), Laswell reckoned I could help.”
“Lieutenant, eh?” Soap glanced at Ghost, almost smirking at him, “Sergeant John McTavish, call me Soap. That’s Ghost, he’s also Lieutenant”.
You could’ve guessed that; their reputation preceded them. The stories that surrounded these men were nothing to be taken lightly, they were undoubtedly the best of the best.
You nodded your head in a greeting and turned to Alejandro as he spoke.
“Alejandro Vargas, Colonel, and Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.” He gestured to Rodolfo, you offered a half-arsed smile, “Anyway, enough talk, we need to get moving. Let’s go!”
The 5 of you piled into a jeep, Rodolfo and Alejandro in the front, Ghost and Soap in the middle and you in the very back seat. Alejandro briefed you, Ghost, and Soap on what’s going on in Las Almas, about the cartel, narcos and El Sin Nombre whilst on the way to the cartel safehouse. Hassan Zyani was your target, an Iranian terrorist. You briefly checked your weapons and equipment while you were perched in the back of the car. All was in order. It was easy to get a look at the men in front of you without them seeing, you tried to get a good view of them in the reflections of the mirrors and windows; trying to observe the people you’re about to fight with; maybe even die with.
Mild panic and perhaps some fear rose in your chest as you looked in the reflection of the middle rear view mirror, a set of dark eyes met yours and glared into your soul. It took a moment for you to recognise they belonged to Ghost. Not liking eye contact, you pulled away first, only for a few seconds. You couldn’t help but look back up, your eyes locked yet again; his gaze was mesmerizing albeit terrifying.
The jeep, along with others containing other soldiers, jolted to a stop as it pulled up outside a small complex of buildings, everyone jumped out of their vehicles and began to prepare for the siege. The heat of Ghost’s glare was still on you, but you busied yourself with your gear and straightening your clothes and vest up, ready to attack. As you were preoccupied with tucking your t-shirt into your black cargo trousers and perhaps fruitlessly pondering whether your skin would burn under the intense sun, Soap’s approach was unaware to you.
“Hey ma’am,” you jumped, unknowing he was talking to you. “with respect, we know nothing about you, we don’t know how you fight or how you act in battle. So, let’s just look out for each other and get us a win, yeah?” He spoke confidently, and clapped you on the shoulder, the surprise, untethered force knocking you to the side slightly.
A quiet and brief laugh left your lips, and you brought your hand up to your forehead to give a mock salute.
“Yes boss”
Soap chuckled in response and left to take his position behind Alejandro. Ghost, however, was eavesdropping the conversation and apparently didn’t find your joke so funny; as he approached you, getting in your personal space.
“What he said. No funny business and you better pull your weight. I got my eye on you.” Ghost pretty much growled at you in his deep, English accent before turning his back on you, preparing to storm the complex.
You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t intimidating, scary even. It was impossible to tell what his expression was like or his emotions due to his mask covering his face, and his eyes were hard to see under all that greasepaint. Hopefully your face didn’t betray your feelings of insecurity and mild fear since you didn’t have a mask to hide behind.
Alejandro’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts as he counted down to busting open the gate to the complex. You crouched on the left side of the gate behind Ghost and readied your weapon. The gate was pushed open, and the armed men rushed in, light on their feet and ready for action. Your nervous heartbeat thumped in your ears, but you nearly became giddy from the thrill of marching into a mission; this feeling never got old. Alejandro led the group as you swept the area; your head snapping around as soon as you heard gunfire coming towards you. The others had already taken care of the attackers.
You and a squad of soldiers broke off to sweep a small building to the left; you slowly pushed open the main door and peeked inside; it was empty. The rest of the men filtered in and thoroughly checked the room. Suddenly multiple bangs and flashes came from your right and one of your assigned squad members dropped to the floor with a shriek. Quickly you spun around and pointed your gun at the attacker who surprised one of your men, firing a burst of bullets from your gun, the man dropped to the floor, dead. The bang of the gun bouncing around the room and ringing in your ears was a familiar sound to you, maybe it was even comforting.
“Building all clear, but we’ve got one hit!” You called to the platoon outside, pockets of gunfire were the only response you received. You motioned for the remaining men to follow you out of the building to re-join with the others; the found the building Hassan was suspected to be hiding in, a white two storey house. You ordered some men to stay outside to watch for squirters, as you and the other officers stormed the house. Ghost and Alejandro rushed in and cleared the ground floor, while you and Soap pushed forward to clear the upper floor, hoping Hassan is up there. The pair of you shot any assailants who confronted you and cleared the main room; just a smaller closet style room remained. Unfortunately, at that moment soap had his back to the room, just as a cartel member raced out of the room; gun in hand and a crazed look in his eyes. You screeched Soap’s name as you sped forward to get a better angle to shoot the bloke. Your guns seemed to fire at the exact same time, except thankfully you seemed to be more accurate. A bullet hit him square in the forehead which seemed to be a one and done deal for the debatably poor man, however in your case his bullet hit you in the forearm; causing the grip on your gun to faulter. It skimmed your right forearm but was just deep enough to take a decent chunk out of your flesh, flecks of blood and your flesh spattered on your bulletproof vest and your t-shirt.
Honestly it took you by surprise, so the pain didn’t hit you until a good 10 seconds after the fact.
“(Y/N) is hit and Hassan isn’t here.” Soap groaned to Ghost and Alejandro as they entered the room.
“I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt.” That was a lie. It was agony; but not the worst pain you’ve ever felt, you could push through it and keep going. You carefully pulled up the long sleeve of your t-shirt so the fabric wouldn’t irritate the wound further.
“Lieutenant, there is a chunk missing out of your arm.” Soap deadpanned, almost as if talking to you like you were an idiot.
“Fuck that, Hassan isn’t here!” Ghost piped up, clearly irritated. However, everyone immediately turned their attention away from him at the sound of heavy vehicles approaching.
“…It’s the fucking Mexican Army!”
The rest of the mission went by in a blur. You recall shooting at the army from the windows of the house, using the window ledge as a mount due to your arm giving you too much pain. You downed as many people as possible before Alejandro led the group down the hill and towards the cliff, taking fire the whole way; and doing your best to return it. Having to jump down the mountain and shimmy across ledges was unexpected, but at this point it was either potentially fall to your death or get shot to death and you knew which option you rather fancied. The adrenaline practically gave you a new lease of life, not feeling any pain from your previously throbbing forearm or the sting from your legs after jumping from ledge to ledge.
“You gotta be fucking joking…” disbelief in your voice after you were told to jump of a bloody high cliff into the murky water below.
“If you want to live, don’t lose your weapon” Alejandro shouted as he leaped off the ledge, Soap followed him. You glanced at Ghost who was still covering you three.
“Get going!” He barked, probably glaring at you.
After a brief moment of deliberation, you took a bit of a run up and leapt off the edge, falling quickly, giving you little time to brace for impact with the glistening water. Attempting to keep your body straight, feet first and crossed arms you made contact with the water; it was colder than expected and made you gasp desperately for air once you broke the surface. Quickly recovering you hurriedly swam forward to join up with the group to help cover your arses from the rain of bullets from the enemy.
A garbled voice came through the radio receivers as your team attempted to make contact, for help. You could feel an intense burning in your limbs and lungs as you swam for your life down the river, occasionally firing your gun at the army on the banks. Though you doubted you hit many, not with the state of your arm; the river water was irritating it, causing the wound to sting and burn.
With water in your eyes, burring your vision you staggered out of the river and made a beeline for a car you had all assigned the ‘getaway vehicle’. You bundled yourself into one of the back seats and got yourself sorted; blinking the water out of your eyes and shaking off your sopping arms and hair.
“Everyone good?” Soap asked from the seat in front of you, Alejandro was driving, and Ghost was in the back seat next to you. The other men replied to him, muttering confirmation that they were alright.
“I’m good” you spoke breathlessly, fiddling with the wound on your arm. Your face contorted in pain as you pushed your fingers into the wound, trying to dig out the bits of debris stuck in it from the river. The sound of a Velcro pocket being ripped open filled your ears and suddenly something hit you in the side of your thigh. Ghost somewhat harshly tapped you on the leg to get your attention and stretched out his arm to give you something; some bandages. He moved his head to motion for you to take them and you did, carefully wrapping them around your arm tightly, hopefully using it as a torniquet to stop the bleeding.
“Cheers boss,” you looked at him with a smile of gratitude as you tucked the ends of the bandage in, out of the way. He didn’t reply, but you could tell he was glaring at you from the corner of his eye.
Honestly you hadn’t been paying attention, but a bloke called Graves was speaking though all your radios, but he was helping you so you couldn’t complain really. Alejandro drove the four of you to the area where Hassan was suspected to be hiding out, with Graves and his bunch providing air support.
You all hopped out of the car and took cover, crouching behind various trucks and crates that littered the area around you. Ghost was crouched near you, though you were more concentrated on the state of your arm; blood was seeping through the bandages.
“Lieutenant,” your head snapped up, he was talking to you. “Stay behind us, we’ll provide entry.” His voice was stern and commanding.
You could tell he was referring to the state of your arm, believing it would hinder your ability to fight.
“I’m fine, I can entry. You don’t need to co-”
“Just do as I say.”
“...Yes Sir.” you spoke sarcastically, annoyed at him; however, it was probably the right call.
You followed both Ghost and Graves’ instructions as you stormed the area, allowing for air support to clear a path for you. Between flattening buildings and mowing through enemies you were burning through ammo, but eventually you had eyes on Hassan.
“Positive ID on Hassan, he ran inside.”
“Eyes on, he’s exiting the courtyard, no enemy personnel located.”
“Quick get him, he’s running for a truck!”
All these voices shouting through your headset was getting on your nerves, you just wanted to catch the bastard, he was so close. Hassan ran through corridors and alleyways to try and escape the cohort that were chasing him so desperately, and you noticed he ran through an alley which you entered the building from, you could cut him off.
“Keep pursuit, I can cut him off. Shadow-1 track his location.” You quickly spoke as you broke off from the group.
“Negative, stay together.” You heard Ghost’s gruff voice ringing in your ears, but it was too late, you were gone.
Ducking between pillars and vaulting over crates, you had your sights set on Hassan; looked like he hadn’t noticed you either. You could see him running desperately and looking behind him, checking to see if he’s still being hunted.
“Get down!” Soap shouted to Hassan with his gun drawn, Hassan only retaliated by drawing his own pistol and aiming it at the men. However, before he could shoot you had been able to reach him and tackle him to the floor. With all your strength you restrained his arms behind his back and basically sat on him for a few seconds until your comrades had a chance to handcuff him and restrain him properly.
“Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7, Jackpot. I say again, Jackpot. Target secure.” Ghost spoke into his radio.
Soap offered you a hand up, which you accepted and thanked him for, before he grabbed Hassan and hauled him up.
“You’re coming with us you bastard.” You sneered while Hassan screeched out some words in Arabic, probably profanity and insults.
Once the exfil arrived, you all bundled into the heli, awkwardly squeezed in between Soap and Ghost. The two extremely large men squishing you.
“Christ, how much space do you need?” you half-jokingly said, Soap chuckled and scooted over slightly, Ghost made absolutely no movement; as expected. The pair of you had a pleasant conversation on the way to the meeting point, where Hassan would be interrogated.