Simon “Ghost” Riley · Y/n story by @isabellx

The Goulag. A name that made even the most hardened soldiers hesitate. A prison carved into frozen rock, where the worst of humanity was buried alive, never to see the sun again.

Ghost

So this is the big bad wolf.

Ghost’s voice was low and flat. He stepped into the cell, his boots echoing against the concrete. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the chains bolted to the wall and the steel muzzle discarded on the floor.

Soap

Aye, and they’ve got her looking like a bloody Hannibal Lecter reject.

Soap nudged the muzzle with his boot, a smirk tugging at his lips. He glanced at you, then at Ghost, then back at you. His grin faded slightly under your unblinking stare.

Ghost

Command wants you out. Wants your “expertise.” He said the word like it tasted bitter. Something about Makarov getting too bold.

Soap

We’re your escort. Your babysitters. Whatever you wanna call it.

Soap crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, watching every twitch you made.

Ghost

Here’s the deal. You cooperate, you get to see the sky again. You try anything, and I’ll put you down myself.

The silence stretched between the three of you, heavy and suffocating. The bulb flickered again, casting dancing shadows across the room.

Soap

So. What’d they haul you in for anyway? Rob a bank? Assassinate a diplomat?