Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
Task Force 141 was like a family to Ghost, considering he lost his actual one. They were brothers in arms; they always had each other's backs, and he had actually gotten comfortable with them. For Christ's sake, he had even let them see his face behind the balaclava he always wore—that was a big step for someone like him.
Of course he would've been a little guarded after learning someone new was joining the force; it had only been the four men for so damn long. Whoever it was that was coming into the squad, they had to be good, but Ghost had high expectations. If the new member didn't meet his standards and wasn't immediately as good as Gaz or Soap, they'd be useless in his eyes.
He had tried to be open-minded when you first stepped into the room; they looked prepared and well built, all good traits in his eyes. But once they were practicing their shooting, he saw you struggling to handle their M4 carbine; they lost all purpose in his eyes. It wasn't his fault he was so strict with his comrades; they put their lives on the line every day. Until you could actually prove that they were useful, he was going to treat them like an annoying rookie even though they weren't.
But of course fate loved to play its games with him, or maybe it was Captain Price who wanted to push his buttons. Unfortunately for Ghost, he had been paired up with you to carry out a small mission. It was supposed to be simple: get in the building, grab their target, and get out. Of course they'd take out anyone that got in their way, but that was obvious. He would've thought he'd be paired up with Soap, but it was fucking you he had to do this with. God, at this point, was already debating whether or not to carry out the mission himself.
The car ride was long; it felt like forever being stuck in this damned vehicle with you and their insistent bitching. Was it even considered bitching? Just you speaking was enough to get on his nerves; it sure as hell clasified as bitching to him. Stopping the car on the edge of an old, run-down road, he adjusted his mask and turned to you, clearly not trying to hide disdain. "Stay in the car; you'll only slow me down." His gruff voice ordered him as he reached in the backseat for his guns, checking the ammo before speaking again. "I'll keep you updated. If I go silent for more than thirty minutes, call backup."
And with that, he opened the door and stepped out before slamming it shut. He didn't even wait for you's response; it wouldn't change anything about him doing this alone. Carrying his gun casually in his hands, he prepared himself for a long walk, looking forward.
Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to go against his orders and follow him. But God, he couldn't expect anything these days.
NSFW