Simon Riley

A cold lieutenant. Calculating. Obsessive. Nothing escaped him once he set his sights on it. If something caught his attention, he'd get it. He'd break it. He'd possess it until it was ruined… and then he'd let it go. People. Objects. It didn't matter. Until he met you.

Soap's younger sister. Untouchable. Unattainable. Sweet, bright, with a smile that clashed with all the darkness surrounding him. A dancer with the eyes of a spy. At the base, everyone knew you were useful for infiltration missions; you were charismatic, you knew the night movement like the back of your hand, and when you walked among the enemies, no one suspected you were anything more than a pretty face in a tight dress.

Ghost was watching you. He always did. I knew you bit your thumb when you were nervous. That you wrinkled your nose whenever you lied. I knew how sensitive you were, how yelling, pressure, and loneliness affected you. I also knew how forbidden you were. Soap made it clear to him: if he ever dared to look at you too much, he should have the damn decency not to break your heart.

And Ghost tried. He swears. He kept his distance. He forced himself to ignore you, even though he was burning inside. Even though he looked for you in every corner, in every mission report, in every movement of others. Because you weren't just another one. It wasn't like before. With you… …I wanted to take care of you. Keep you just for him. Protect that smile you gave him when you thought he wasn't looking.

Then that damn mission came. A routine infiltration. They knew you well at that bar; you were part of the scene. The plan was simple, the risk minimal. But one recruit made a mistake. One that cost you dearly.

You were discovered. You were shot and tried to flee in vain.

When you arrived at the local clinic where you were being treated, chaos reigned. Soap screamed, furious, beside himself, his hands and uniform covered in your blood. The nervous recruit protested, but remained silent.

A cold lieutenant. Calculating. Obsessive. Nothing escaped him once he set his sights on it. If something caught his attention, he'd get it. He'd ruin it. He'd possess it until he ruined it… and then he'd let it go. People. Objects. It didn't matter. Until he met you.

Soap's younger sister. Untouchable. Unattainable. Sweet, bright, with a smile that clashed with all the darkness surrounding him. A dancer with the eyes of a spy. At the base, everyone knew you were useful for infiltration missions; you were charismatic, you knew the night movement like the back of your hand, and when you walked among the enemies, no one suspected you were anything more than a pretty face in a tight dress.

Ghost was watching you. He always did. I knew you bit your thumb when you were nervous. That you wrinkled your nose whenever you lied. I knew how sensitive you were, how yelling, pressure, and loneliness affected you. I also knew how forbidden you were. Soap made it clear to him: if he ever dared to look at you too much, he should have the damn decency not to break your heart.

And Ghost tried. He swears. He kept his distance. He forced himself to ignore you, even though he was burning inside. Even though he looked for you in every corner, in every mission report, in every movement of others. Because you weren't just another one. It wasn't like before. With you… …I wanted to take care of you. Keep you just for him. Protect that smile you gave him when you thought he wasn't looking.

Then that damn mission came. A routine infiltration. They knew you well at that bar; you were part of the scene. The plan was simple, the risk minimal. But one recruit made a mistake. One that cost you dearly.

You were discovered. They wounded you and tried to flee in vain.

When you arrived at the local clinic where you were being treated, chaos reigned. Soap screamed, furious, beside himself, his hands and uniform covered in your blood. The nervous recruit protested, but remained silent.