sorry i haven’t posted in so long, i’ve been having some awful writer’s block.
Word Count : 1,210
CW : mention of guns, swearing, dogs, people might be ooc(?) sorry im a lil rusty
God, John needed a fucking vacation…
Everything had gone to shit as far as missions went, and they had no secure safe houses to lie low in. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and himself all sat around a table trying to strategize what their next move was. Friends and foes all seemed to blur together at the moment.
“What we need is a place to lick our wounds.” Gaz sighed, forehead resting against the table.
“Aye.” Johnny groaned, practically sliding off the creaky chair he'd planted himself in.
Price dragged a hand down his face, trying to rack his brain. “I just don’ know where we'd go, lads.”
A pregnant pause hangs in the air between the lot of them. Until Ghost groans, “I got a place.” Everyone's head shoots up to stare at him in shock. “Don' look at me like that. We leave in the mornin’.”
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“I wan’ you all to be on yer best fuckin’ behaviour. No smart comments, no insults, act like yer at yer mum's house. Clear?” Ghost hisses to the others. His back pressed against the driver's door of a large black sedan. The two sergeants in front of him looked at each other before nodding their heads in response. There was a long pause among all four men. “Alrigh’ let's head out then.”
They all piled into the car, slightly nervous about where the lieutenant was taking them. “So, LT where we goin’?” Johnny said, leaning over the shoulder of Ghost's seat. The large man side-eyed the younger man through his skull face plate.
“Can't tell ya. Tha’ defeats th’ purpose of it being secret, Johnny.” He ruffled, eyes returning to the road.
Soap flopped back against the bench seat, “Not even a hint LT?”
Silence was his only response. He looked over to see Price already fast asleep. His hat covered his face but the slow rise and fall of his shoulders was a dead give away. Soap looked over to Gaz but he was enveloped in some documentary he'd downloaded. Bored out of his mind, he looked out the window and watched the world go by. The bustling military base of Fox Lines faded into rolling hills and sleepy towns. Things began to stretch out, more distance being put between the towns and more farmland took its place. Before he knew it the town signs and directories began fading from English into something a bit more… familiar. It wasn't quite Scots nor was it Irish. Welsh, maybe?
“Oi, Ghost. Where tae fuck are we?” Soap yelled as if they weren't in a car.
Price, startled awake, jumped in his seat and bashed his head on the roof of the car. Ghost dropped the cigarette he’d been holding, and it bounced off the car panels and onto the road. Gaz threw his phone before smacking the Scotsman upside the head, “Jesus Christ, Soap. You scared the piss out of me.”
Johnny laughed, “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head where Gaz had hit him. “But seriously, LT, where are we?”
Ghost readjusted his mask by the bridge of the nose. “Wales, McTavish.”
Before anyone could ask any questions the car turned onto a quiet two track road. With nothing but farmland and little farmhouses on either side. Ghost drove the car up to the first driveway on the right. The drive was closed off by a gate that said ‘NO TRESPASSING’ and ‘BEWARE OF DOGS’. Unbuckling the seatbelt, he slid out of the car with a “Don't. Move.”
Slamming the door as he stood up, two very large dogs ran to the gate sounding the alarm. The three men in the car watched intently as their lieutenant calmed the guard dogs. Both dogs sat and waited patiently as the large man unlocked the gate. He headed back to the car. The dogs waited by the gate until he got back in the car. As he drove through the gate the dogs ran alongside up to the porch of the farmhouse. Ghost parked the car next to a black pick-up truck that had been caked in mud. Popping out of the car, he turned back to the car and called, “Come on out, lads.” Johnny was the first to get out of the car, he was too amped up to sit much longer. Price shortly followed suit, with Gaz apprehensively following behind. He was none too keen on being bitten by a Giant Schnauzer.
Soap bounded over to Ghost's side, “Wha’ are their names?”
“The Schnauzer is Sean, and the Kerry Blue is Aoife. Hold out your palms but don't touch. They'll come to you.” He murmured before giving the release cue to the dogs.
Sean began sniffing their clothes and shoes while Aoife started with their palms. Both were intent on inspecting every inch before turning back and sitting at their owners' feet. Price whistled lowly, “Those are some impressive skills they've got. Did you train them yourself?”
“No.” Ghost replied and he stepped onto the porch in one stride. Next to the front door was a garage door opener that, when pressed, shut the gate again.
Once the gate shut the large terriers jumped on him, licking his face and knocking Ghost into the wall. “Where is she?” he asked the dogs, they excitedly ran towards the barn barking the whole way.
Ghost signaled for the other men to follow him. They all followed him trying to pepper him with questions all the way up to the barn. He hadn't answered any of them, focusing on trying to find his target. Looking through the barn door everyone stopped short at what was waiting inside.
A woman with a long salt-and-pepper ponytail stood mucking out stalls. She was young, maybe 25, and had lighter patches of skin dappled across her body. Classic rock blared through the barn as she went about her chores. Picking up the wheelbarrow she walked to the back of the barn and out a side door. The men went to take a step inside but she came around the corner wielding a shotgun.
Everyone aside from Ghost reached for their own guns. Glaring down the barrel she spoke in a thick Irish accent, “What're ye all doin’ on me fuckin’ land?”
“I live here.” Ghost replied.
“Oh, really? Then what's the dog's name?”
“Which one?”
“The one on that hay bale there.”
They all looked over to see a very angry, hairless rat terrier growling at them from above.
“Oisín.” he replied.
It was a long, tense moment before she finally put the gun down. “Si? Is that you?”
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I dropped the gun and ran to him, jumping into his arms. He caught me easily and spun us around. “Why have ye not rang us? We would’ve gone down the shops for ye.” Simon set me down but didn’t let go of my waist. “Oh, take tha’ blasted thing off. Ye know I hate tha’ ting.”
I reached up and took his mask off before ruffling his short blond hair, kissing him happily. He broke the kiss and turned to the men who’d followed him into the barn. “Lads, this is Y/N. My wife.”
I feel like all the circumstances of my life should have lead me to apostasy but it hasnt so im just kinda here. Continously suffering when i could just leave
