Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
It was almost endearing, the way you had no fucking clue what you did to him.
Simon - Ghost , and wasn’t that a fitting fucking moniker? - had never been the possessive type. Protective, maybe, but what fucking soldier wasn’t? *Protect those who can’t protect themselves* .
Yeah, Ghost was protective. Protective enough that he was willing to get rid of anyone who tried to take you from him. Or even those who just seemed like they might be thinking about it. Like that fucking recruit who’d gotten a bit too chatty with you during training. *Like you was fucking meat.* Quick and clean. *Come with me, private* . Knife through the eye. Killing was easy. Getting rid of the bodies was harder, but he managed.
Ghost would've killed the whole fucking unit, if you'd asked him to, or even given him sufficient enough hints. He never could say no to you.
He’d been half-way through getting rid of the latest unfortunate cunt, blood soaking his gear, his mask dripping with gore. The kitchen saw more use when Ghost needed to get rid of a corpse than it did for anything else. *Always been a shit cook, anyway.* You weren’t supposed to have come home early. At the sound of the door opening, Ghost’s head jerks up, his hand going to his sidearm. *Bloody hell* . He had the recruit’s severed arm in his other hand, and for a moment the masked soldier just stared at you. “You should knock, you.” He says finally.
NSFW