Messed up ◾️ Cold seed [2]
》So, I gotta go all the way... Thank you, @553580 and @/daydreamerwhoa 🫶 《
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About one hour earlier
"Diana", Kyle Garrick says while he's studying your face, each syllable of your name rolling off his lips as if he knew its weight. The Huntress. "Pleased to meet you."
Shaking his hand with softer pressure than usual, you're very pleased, too. You thought getting back to base here and close to the inner circle would turn out to be much more difficult.
Again, however, Kate had been very supportive, making your "job relocation" and everything coming along pretty easy.
Thanks, love!
What felt significantly more difficult: coming eye-to-eye again with the men you helped doing their jobs and coming back safe for so long — knowing for sure that fifty percent of them literally let you die, cold-blooded, and didn’t give a fuck.
Well, to this, Ghost might object.
These days it's easy for you to imagine him saying, "Gave you more than just a fuck, doll, didn't I?"
Strange that it never even crossed your mind before that he could actually be this kind of man…
Regarding Gaz and Soap… You would need to pay close attention and find out more about them. Find out if they might deserve to be sacrificed as a means for your vengeance all the like… After all, Ghost and Soap are close, aren’t they?
So, here you are now, those thoughts banned from your mind to appear friendly and approachable enough in your challenging situation – in Diana's challenging situation…
You should get used to the new name you've chosen quickly enough.
Coming from Gaz, it already sounds so familiar. Combined with the way he looks at you – a mixture of compassion and interest – as well as Soap's welcoming and encouraging demeanor, it immediately hits you with a feeling of nostalgia, the positive memories of your first encounter with them still fresh in your mind – despite the years.
And the melancholy for what could have been or might not come true is the lurking shadow in your eyes that lets them believe your pretence. Because what would be the alternative?
Therefore the conversation is easy, despite the circumstances. A cuppa in hand, the three of you are floating through everything a newcomer around them should know, and you tell them about Diana, at least what's appropriate to share during a first inofficial business meeting.
Until it's not just the three of you anymore. You feel his presence behind your back and turn around.
Your reward is the look on his masked face, this complicated thing that happens the moment his eyes and brain have worked out what's before them. Narrowing his eyes in an almost twitching movement, his light lashes fluttering for one heartbeat – that's your first victory.
"Seen a ghost?"
"Every day in the mirror", he retorts, voice gruff – much like always.
He's regained his stoic expression instantly, you give him that.
Gaz's introduction includes the explanation Diana might need:
"This is Lieutenant Riley. Ghost."
You nod and don't break eye contact. You make no attempt to shake Ghost's hand either.
"I know I look a lot like her." This is all you offer him.
Heading to the kitchenette casually, Ghost bides his time until he accepts.
His back to the three of you, Ghost prepares his tea while Soap takes over:
"This is Diana, the new admin. Replacement for her sister."
While he's pouring the hot water onto the tea bag, the lieutenant finally states,
"Twins, huh? My condolences."
"Thank you", you reply, voice now softer than hers, and Ghost turns around again, looking you up and down. Blatantly.
The grieving relative.
You think you see him give a slight nod, but you wouldn't bet on it.
Occasionally taking a sip, he remains silent, doesn't participate in the conversation that comes up again. However, you sense him listening. To every single word you say. For the duration of his cup of tea.
It doesn't take long for him to pour the last sip into the sink, clean his cup, and get ready to leave the lounge.
When you look up, his eyes are already back on you. "Was a pleasure meeting you", he states, but you know better.
Then he nods to his sergeants in farewell and vanishes.
It's not a loss. On the contrary. For you, laughing is easier once more.
If Gaz has noticed, he doesn't comment on this fact. In stark contrast to Soap.
When both men leave ten minutes later, the Scotsman tries to lift your spirits.
"Dinnae pay the lieutenant a mind, hen. He means nae harm. Ye'll see."
You put on a practised smile for him and don't reply, because you must neither burst into laughter nor tears.
The sympathetic expression on Soap's face is an image you store in your mind. Think about it later.
And then you take a deep breath when you're finally alone again. You take your time washing out your cup. Meanwhile, you're considering your next steps.
Remain as inconspicuous as possible. Gather intel. No rash moves. Revenge is a dish best served cold.
It should be enough for today.
You leave the lounge fiddling with your MOD90 attached to your trousers, staring at your first name on it. Deep in thought, you turn around a corner just to immediately get slammed against the wall.
The impact is shocking in its abruptness, but not brutal per se. A large hand prevents the back of your head from getting hit, strong fingers around your upper arm and the massive front of a tall body ensure you don't stumble and fall. Pinned between a wall of stone and one of muscles, you're caged now.
Gazing at you, cold and calculating, Ghost lets go of your head to lean his arm against the wall, putting slightly more pressure onto you as he grabs your chin. He couldn't care less if anyone witnessed this scene. For a moment you're too overwhelmed by surprise and dreadful memories so that he can turn your head to the left before you start to push and shove against his chest.
His grip tightens, closer to merciless now, but still far less forceful than you've come to experience.
The crinkles around the corners of his eyes leave no doubt that he's grinning. Inspecting you attentively.
"Won't you let me get a good look, sweet'eart? Had no chance with your admirers around." But at the same time, he sounds pensive.
"Don't touch me", you hiss, but Ghost ignores you, even when you grip his wrist. As if you hadn't said a word, he turns your head to the right.
If you didn’t know better, you'd think he was comparing the details of two different faces up close now that he's got you for himself. However, there's no question he's looking for a graze, some wound, marks of a shot – to detect any strategem, to find out whether Price failed to kill you.
There’s no hint for him, though, no scars, nothing.
Ghost doesn't pull up your hair to get a closer look at where the exit wound was. Nothing to be found but soft skin, anyways.
Because you shaved an Undercut to make up for the strands that couldn't regrow back to full length within the short span of time between your death and your return.
"Never seen such perfect twins before", he whispers, too close to your ear, but maybe just to himself nontheless.
Then, finally, he lets go of you and takes a step back.
"So, what did Captain Price say about this flawless copy, Diana?"
Your name on his lips tastes like ashes.
"Haven't met him yet."
At this, Ghost actually laughs, and it sounds genuine and truly amused.
You know you're dismissed when he turns to walk back to his office. You wonder whether it's directed at you when he remarks,
"How I'd love to see his face."
[3]