Chapter Text
Ray wasn’t thrilled to have to ask Ghost for help, but she wasn’t about to give up and die, either. It was rather a game of the ego.
They’ve brushed shoulders a few times before, each meeting laced with unpleasantries and stiffness. They weren’t very… fond of each other.
Despite both of their teams following the same direction, the good one, they never really collaborated.
Partly because their first meeting was rather violent and because Ray couldn’t exactly grasp, read him. And that meant she couldn’t trust him.
Damn that stupid mask.
But despite not liking him, her team was in a bind and she had no choice. Entertaining their enemies while her team regrouped and escaped wasn’t all too pleasant, either.
But things need to be done. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to do something she didn’t want to. Hell, this whole operation she’d been running for five years wasn’t bringing her joy.
It had, at first, when killing a few vile people seemed like all there was to it. But the world is a rotten place, crawling with more, worse individuals. In need of a clean out.
Safe to say, she made a name for herself, and just as many enemies.
Hence her current predicament. Strapped to a metal chair in a burning building.
At least she managed to keep those fools busy for long enough, and kept herself alive. For now…
Her team escaped and the last fifteen minutes she indulged in the rapid gunshots from downstairs. Even bigger enjoyment was the silence that followed.
They were all dead now. Good.
Although her satisfaction didn’t last. She hadn’t been very thorough in the message she sent. And it seemed Ghost wasn’t particularly pressed with her safety, probably assuming she’d have escaped by now, along with her team, avoiding thanking him in person.
Not a wrong assumption, to be fair.
“Ah fuck me.”
She gave the cuffs another tug, hurting herself further. It was no use; she’d faster rip her hands off than break free.
“Maybe I should fucking hyperventilate so the smoke gets me.” she huffed, sour.
She thought about why she was doing this whole thing, anyway. She thought about her friends and family back home, who for sure thought she had been dead for years. Soon enough, haha. She thought about God, whom she hasn’t believed in since she was 17.
What a stupid fate. Someone of her caliber, to die in a fucking fire like a hotdog.
She grunted again, frustrated, leaning her head back, to stare at the ceiling. Maybe she would challenge God to help her. After all, all you have to do is ask for forgiveness, right?
Her pained expression changed to neutral instantly, coming face to face with him, just standing over her.
While she felt relieved, she wasn’t happy to see him.
“Took you long enough.”
Silently, he moved to her side, crouching towards her bound hands. She imagined a master key or a bolt cutter, but instead he pulled out a syringe.
Memories rush in.
Ray’s eyes widened as she uselessly tried to get out of the restraints, like she hadn’t sliced her wrists open trying to do exactly that. Fear makes people do stupid things.
“W-wait wait wait! That’s not- This wasn’t our deal, Ghost!” she shouted angry.
“You want to renegociate the terms?” he took a small pause, nodding toward the flames. “Now?”
While Ray could enjoy irony, she wasn’t exactly in the mood.
“You said ‘anything I wanted’” he continued, gripping her hand firmly so she’d stop shaking it.
“Obviously that didn’t mean me!”
“Should have been more specific.” he clarified simply, unbothered.
She kept fussing, but to no avail. She was already tied to the chair and Ghost’s grip didn’t allow any room for movement.
She was starting to feel desperate, watching the needle nearing her veins.
“Stop-! Stop! I’ll double the payment! Triple!”
“I’m already content with this payment.” he spoke without giving her a second thought.
He pushed the substance in. It felt cold flushing through her veins, in high contrast with the heat burning on her skin.
“Fuck…” Ray muttered unhappy, spiteful, as she relaxed slightly in the chair, feeling defeated and angry. The anesthesic was quickly taking effect.
The displeasure in her face couldn’t be lost on anyone, but it’s not like Ghost was bothered by it.
“Why?” she used her last bits of energy to spit the question out. She already felt her vision waiver, her body slumping.
“Jakarta. That’s why.” he replied, still seeming sour over it.
He simply and swiftly cut the cuffs open, placed a fire resistant material over her and threw her limp body over his shoulder.
——-
Soap was leaning in a chair, pretending to read the clipboard in front of him. His eyes darted across the room as Ghost entered loudly, carrying what looked like a pile of laundry on his shoulder. If laundry smelled like charcoal and lighter fluid.
“Aye, what the hell you got there, LT?”
Ghost didn’t reply, placing Ray on the table and taking the heat resistant material off, revealing the unconscious woman.
Soap stood over her, arms crossed against his chest, staring. He whistled.
“Pretty face. Who is she?”
He spoke casual, nearing her face to analyse it better.
“Ray.”
Ghost replied indifferent, as he took some of his gear off.
“Ray? The. Ray? Jakarta Ray?”
Ghost hummed gruff, low. An unpleasant confirmation.
“Oh shit! What the hell’s gotten into you, LT? Thought you didn’t carry bad blood for ‘er. You were to one to call it off, after all.”
Soap teased, pointing out potential hypocrisy. But he was curious, too.
“Opportunity. She wanted her team extracted. Said i could have anything in return.”
Soap laughed, wholeheartedly. The situation was most absurd, comedic in a way he couldn’t have imagined.
“You extracted her alright. Bet she wasn’t too happy she was the prize.” he takes a few seconds to calm down his laughter.
“Did she plead?”
Ghost was working over her, casually disinfecting and cleaning the wounds of her wrists.
“Yeah. Offered me money.”
“Bet she’d be more careful throwing around the “anything in return” from now on.” Soap amused himself further.
Ghost didn’t laugh, nor did he acknowledge the bullshit Soap kept spewing. He just worked on the body in front of him, stripping her of her gear, bulletproof vest, hidden blades, making sure she’d be compliant upon waking up.
He allowed her underclothes to stay on, black top and black biker shorts. Or boxers. He wasn’t sure and didn’t care.
She didn’t look so imposing anymore.
“Gonna step out. Watch her closely. She’s deadlier than you think.”
“This lass? Think I can handle her, LT.”
“Don’t let the size fool you, Johnny.”
Ghost doesn’t insist, if Soap is stupid enough to let his guard down then he should face the consequences. Although he doubts it. She should be out of it at least until he comes back.
——-
Johnny watched her figure and face for a while, silently wondering why the hell she chose this line of work.
She could have easily picked anything else, and with her reputation, excelled at it.
Well, it’s not like any of them chose this life. She probably hadn’t either.
He turns to look at the clock, it’s nearing sunrise. He steals a glimpse of the window, wanting to catch the sun.
But he doesn’t get far. He feels the unmistakable edge of a blade, pressed tightly against his artery. He feels his pulse point violently trashing against it.
He slowly lifts his arms up, trying to showcase cooperation. He doesn’t dare to make an attempt to escape, to overpower her. The blade is too precise, too close, too sharp. The smallest movement and he would slice his own throat open.
“Easy, love.” He speaks slowly, instinctively. “Easy, there.”
“Where is he?” her voice is rough, ragged, aftermath of the smoke she inhaled. The lasting effects of the drugs Ghost kindly served her with aren’t exactly helping her case, either.
Soap doesn’t get to reply. The blade parts suddenly with his skin, prompting him to move forward, not wasting any time. As he turns around, he sees Ghosts huge frame quickly gripping her arms behind her back, nearing her scapula, jolting her forward violently. A sudden gasp escapes her lips, partly from the pain of being manhandled.
Her rear is pressed snug against his pelvis, her face nearing Soap’s belt. She moves her head slightly to the side, to put some distance between her and his… jewels. The position is utmost humiliating. She can’t tell if Ghost did it on purpose or just out of convenience.
He’s probably too dense to even think of something as suggestive as this.
Soap presses his finger where the knife kissed his skin, meeting Ghosts gaze.
“Told ye. She’s a monster. Even high as a kite and she still had your throat.”
“…Right.” Soap doesn’t seem too happy with the reveal, but he doesn’t sulk much.
He turns his attention toward her, struggling against Ghosts unyielding grip. She seems calculating, feeling his strength out. She suddenly moves, and despite being unsuccessful in escape, she made Ghost move his feet slightly.
She made him adjust, wow. So much fire in her.
Although, while Soap is impressed, he wonders if Ray knows that her little stunt served Ghost more than it served her. The friction. The struggle. If it weren’t for the mask, maybe she’d see the flush, catch on.
“Let. Me. Go. Ghost. That’s if you value MacTavishes potential bloodline.” she spat out.
Soap took a step back, not wanting to take any chances with her threat. He’d seen she’s not one to back down or bluff. Ghost, on the other hand, jerked her forwards slightly, earning a little grunt from her. He seemed amused, pleased with the movement, holding his body firm against her.
“Oh, no need for introductions? You’ve been doing your homework. Always knowing more than you let on.”
His grip loosened slightly, but Ray doesn’t take the chance. It’s probably a trap. She’s not in her best shape, it’s better to wait out a different opportunity. Besides, she knows Ghost won’t kill or torture her. He probably wants her intel or something.
He just has to be a dick before he asks. She’ll let it play out in his favour. There’s not much of a choice she has.
“Tell me, do you know why you’re here?”
He pushes her forward, letting go of her arms, but she catches herself on the edge of the table. She straightens herself, using the table as leverage.
She’s not happy. Her body is still weak with the tranquilliser. She turns her back to the table, trying to keep both of them in her like of vision.
“Slip of the tongue.” she replies curt. “And you’re a dick. Could’ve asked.”
They’re both taking slow and deliberate steps towards her. Ray doesn’t quite get it, but maybe it’s the brain fog she’s experiencing.
They already have her, incapacitated and outnumbered. Why not make their demands already? Why keep on pushing?
“Would you have said yes?”
Ray doesn’t reply, pressing her lips in a thin line, underlining the obvious. Of course she wouldn’t have. But it would have still been nice to be asked.
Table’s at her back. Soap on her right. Ghost on her left. Nearing closer, step by step.
“What the hell do you want, Ghost?” she decided twisting her body slightly towards him. He was the bigger threat.
Ghost nodded towards Soap, as if to pass the question on to him. Ray’s eyes didn’t leave him, though. She was a fan of such dirty tricks, casually deflecting your opponent’s gaze to something else.
Until she felt Soap’s lips, his warm breath on her neck.
“Can’t take a hint, baby?”
She instantly felt a painful shiver down her spine, her gut feeling like it took a punch straight on.
Bewildered by the implication she turned and pushed his shoulder hard, imperative to put distance between them. Soap took two-three steps backward, but the damage was none.
He looked at her face, indifferent, noting the different shade of hatred her eyes had caught. It was more raw, knowing. Not just pissed at the inconvenience. Scared.
So she did catch on.
She barely even had time to gulp, swallow dry, think of what to do, when Ghosts heavy arm circled her waist, torso, stomach.
Her hands dived instinctively to his arm, trying to break herself free. Desperation’s slowly seeping into her, being apparent in her ragged breath and movements.
She tries to pry his arm off, but every time she struggles, he only seems more happy, pulling her closer, enjoying the way she squirms against him.
She could feel his enjoyment, hard, pressed against her lower back. Disgusting.
Johnny comes closer again, holding the same knife she used on him. He wiggles it in front of her face, as if it’s a prize she’s lost.
Slowly, he places the blade flat on her cheek, urging her to turn her head. Left. Then he moves the blade to the other side. Right.
“Stunning. Even with that glare.”
Upon receiving no gratitude, he turns to Ghost.
“Sedative’s wearing off.”
Ray’s eyes catch an edge, despite trying to hide it. It could be her chance.
Soap keeps the blade pressed to her cheek, as he reaches into the pocket Ghost nodded towards. He pulls out a small envelope, containing two small pills.
“Open up, pretty.”
Ray doesn’t move, but no one expected her to. Soap’s lips turn to a sly smile.
“Gonna be a lot worse if you don’t listen, sweetheart.” he sais as Ghosts grip tightened, straining her painfully at the middle.
“Maybe she wants to be sober for it.” Ghost suggests. Soap laughs, gripping her chin to force her to look straight at him, minimising the distance. She feels his breath on her face as he speaks to her, suffocating.
“Mind giving us a show? I’m curious to what your performance is like when you’re capable of your best.”
“Fuck you.” she spits out.
“Yeah, that’s the offer.” Soap lets go of her chin, pushing her face slightly to the side.
“Don’t appreciate the courtesy? We are giving you a choice, Ray.” Ghost taunted.
Upon no reply, he continued.
“Well, we ain’t monsters. I’d rather you forget about it by tomorrow. Keep on your mission.” he spoke casual. His sudden respect towards her work felt weird and uncharacteristic. What the hell?
Ray didn’t really try to figure out what he meant, tho. She knew half of it, the benzodiazepines, the date rape drug, would make her forget what happened. Why Ghost wanted her to, why he suddenly cared about preserving her fire and mental health for her future missions, she didn’t know.
“You’re crazy if you think i’ll forget this.”
They exchanged glances, Ghost laughed slightly next to her ear, mocking.
“Funny, you think this is the first time?”
Her face dropped. Her heart dropped. She would have dropped if Ghost wasn’t holding her.
It all felt silent for a while, she wasn’t sure if it were her blocking out the sound or if the room was suddenly quiet. It didn’t matter.
Ghost and Soap erupted into laughter.
“He’s taking the piss, hon.”
He used the momentum of her shock to push the pill inside her mouth. She started struggling instantly, fighting to reprocess that what she had been told wasn’t even true, fighting the salty fingers prying her mouth open and pressing her tongue, finding their way to her throat.
She backed her head, only to be met with Ghosts hand, entangled into her hair and holding her in place.
She gagged on Soap’s fingers, muscles clenching painfully around them, making a wet, slimy sound. She tried to bite down, but he didn’t budge until he dropped the pill in her throat. Her senses were filled with his taste, the rough calloused hands scraping her mouth.
“She’s a biter.” he remarked casually, before removing his hand fast, giving Ghost way to place his palm over her mouth, to keep her from spitting.
He kept her face upwards, straining her neck, the position forcing her to swallow a few times out of reflex.
Soap looked at the saliva on his fingers, as if pondering what to do. He casually wiped them clean on her shirt. She didn’t even move, probably didn’t even notice he touched her so casually, too focused on not choking. He’d have a taste later, directly from the source. Bet she tastes as sweet as she looks.
Ghost lets her face free, and her head falls forward due to the rough contrast of having been held the opposite way.
She doesn’t know what to do. There’s not much to do. What to say. They’ll just turn her insult against her or mock her further. What to feel. Certainly she doesn’t want to feel the bulge knocking on her back door.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, she certainly is fucked.