I'm sorry this chapter took a while, it sort of took me a while to actually get round to finishing it. Just in case there may be any confusion, the sections in italics are scenes from the past/memories. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter and I would love to hear your feedback on it, and what your thoughts are on the story so far, so let me know in a review!
Outside, the sky was dull and lifeless. Monotonous buildings spread across the horizon, scattered with tiny squares of pale light. A circle of condensation frosted up the glass, as Eva's warm breath caressed the window, only to fade away again. The way the lights glittered across the buildings could have been considered as a remarkable sight, pretty even. Yet she stared out, hollow and emotionless. There was a slow creak as the oak door behind her opened and she instinctively hugged her silk gown tighter around her frame as she heard footsteps approach. She didn't turn around, and instead saw a ghostly pale face looming over her shoulder in the reflection of the glass. A smooth voice sent a tingle down the back of her neck as it drifted into her ear.
"When your father begged me to take you from his hands, I took pity on you…" A hand reached from behind and slid a wave of hair behind her ear, and her teeth clenched at the touch. "Pretty girl, not wanted by even her own family. I could easily have just killed both you and your fool of a father for his idiocy, but instead I took you in and gave you a life of royalty…"
Her arm was suddenly gripped tightly and she was swung round and shoved roughly against the window, a hand clamped around her throat. She inhaled at the sudden scuffle but did nothing more and let her arms hang by her sides, the sleeve of her gown hanging limply around her wrist, exposing her fair skin. A contorted, snarling face lowered close to hers and she fought the urge to recoil.
"But you are yet to fucking repay me!" She flinched as saliva sprayed into her face. "You sneak around, putting your filthy little hands on things and think I won't know!? How dare you step a foot into my office you little bitch! You don't have permission to fucking breathe unless I tell you to!"
A tangle of blonde hair whipped through the air as her head swung round at the impact of the slap. It happened so quick, that the burning sensation welling in her cheek was the only indicator telling her she had been struck. With a final jolt of her neck, she was released and she watched as he adjusted the jacket of his suit and walked away, sinisterly casual. She lifted a gentle hand to her reddened cheek as he reached for the handle of the door and then froze. Without turning to face her, his cold, calm voice rang through the silence.
"There will be consequences for your actions. I'll expect you in five minutes."
And with those words that sent a chill of understanding down Eva's spine, Vladimir Makarov stepped forward and closed the door behind him.
Uncharacteristically, the shooting range was desolate and lifeless. The hum of activity from the base could be heard in the distance, but otherwise, it was almost serene. There was a repetitive clicking as leaning against a row of piled sandbags, Ghost loaded a magazine, pushing in one bullet after another in practiced motions. When it was fully loaded, he picked up the semi-automatic pistol from on top of the barrel next to him and snapped the magazine into the chamber. He gripped it and extended his arm, squinting through its line of fire experimentally before relaxing again and turning it over in his hand in inspection before setting it down.
He scanned the array of guns he had lain out on the barrels; a small selection pistols, a machine pistol and a rifle. He eyed the rifle. Her feeble arms had no chance of holding it stiff enough not to give herself whiplash. Such a powerful gun shouldn't even be touched by someone like her. It was such a harsh, warped collision of worlds. And frankly it irritated Ghost. This was his world.
"Tenner says she's a Desert Eagle kind of lass."
Ghost didn't falter, as he never did, at MacTavish's voice behind him and rather than turning to face him, he picked up another pistol. The Captain continued to approach and stopped beside Ghost, his hands in tucked in his pant pockets.
"Come to gloat 'Tavish?" Ghost said ignoring his comment, tossing the pistol from hand to hand, feeling the weight of it in each.
MacTavish shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling down in an attempt to supress a smirk, even though Ghost stared straight ahead impassively. "No, no, just came to see what you've lined up for her." He looked at the row of guns organised carefully in size order on the barrels. "Check there's nothing that would kill her."
Ghost raised the pistol close to his face and looked over the top of it, his finger hovering over the trigger. "I'm good at making deaths look like accidents."
MacTavish snorted, knowing that Ghost was smirking under his balaclava. He dragged a hand out of his pocket, a packet of cigarettes in his palm and flicked the top open with his thumb. As he lifted his other hand to extract a cigarette from the pack, he caught sight of something to his left and coughed almost awkwardly, but his face gave away his amusement.
"Well, I'll leave you two to it." he said, pushing the tip of the cigarette between his lips and turning to leave. He nodded at Eva as he passed, an impish smirk still lingering on his face. "Good luck."
With a heavy stomach, she took a few more steps towards Ghost, whose large figure had turned in her direction but his attention was concentrated downwards as he fiddled with something on top of the barrel. She had decided to stop using the crutches that had aided her over the past few days, mainly because she felt she could manage without, and partially because she got a feeling that it would irritate Ghost if she didn't. She didn't understand why, he had never made this clear; he hadn't even looked at her properly in the last couple of days. There was just something about him, something about him that she feared to provoke.
Ghost still didn't look up as she limped forward and she stopped a few feet away from him. Silence stretched between them as she stared at the guns before him. She'd willingly agreed to this training – if this is what they needed her to do then she would. Yet despite his lack of words, she sensed that Ghost hadn't been so willing to participate in such a programme.
After a long, tense moment, Ghost finally looked up. From behind the protection of his tinted sunglasses, he registered her appearance. It seemed someone had taken the liberty of providing her with some of their kit as standing before him, her small frame was covered by a dark green t-shirt that was rolled a few times at the sleeves which he presumed was because of its large fitting. She had on khaki combat pants which seemed to bury the real outline of her legs and black boots, tied in tight knots. He had no idea where she'd got the boots; he doubted anyone wore such a small shoe size. Roach was a scrawny little sod, maybe they were his.
From the way she stood, her hands locked together in a tight grasp, he could tell she knew she looked ridiculous. She looked horribly out of place.
Picking up a set of ear defenders from amongst the selection of guns, he extended an arm and held them out to her. Keeping her eyes lowered to his hand, which she noticed wasn't gloved and was lightly tanned, she took them from him. The moment they left his hand, he averted his attention and picked up the first pistol.
"This is a P99 handgun. It's a short recoil-operated locked breech semi-automatic pistol." He didn't look up as he popped out the magazine for demonstration and then clipped it back in. "Keep your arms extended, hold it tight and squeeze the trigger slowly."
His gaze lifted and met panicked blue eyes. Eva had misunderstood his gesture and had put the ear defenders on, and had now suddenly realised he was talking and was scrambling to yank them off again. They slid down and hung around her neck and she stared up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.
"I'm sorry! I thought I was supposed to put them on." She rushed her words, sounding almost frantic.
Ghost stared at her, his eyes stony. He wanted to quit already. Exhaling, he gripped the muzzle of the pistol and extended the handle to her. "Here."
Unknowing to the fact that underneath his balaclava, a light crease had formed where the corner of his mouth had curled up ever so slightly, she was simply relieved that he had overlooked the matter. Her eyes travelled from his concealed face, down his arm, and to the gun he held out. A ripple of nausea unsettled her stomach and her throat grew hoarse and dry as she stared at it.
"Go on. You have one shot." Vladmir Makarov jilted the pistol in his hand encouragingly. "I know you want to do it. I see the way you look at me. Take it. Let's see if you have it in you."
Eva didn't move. Her eyes flickered between his dark narrowed ones, his unsettling smirk and the glinting gun in his outstretched hand. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears and she suddenly felt as if she could vomit.
"Take it." This time his voice was different. It was a demand.
With a shaking hand, she slowly reached up and delicately wrapped her fingers around the handle and he let go of the end, her arm dropping fractionally under its weight. She pulled it close to her chest, not daring to point it at him. It felt alien in her hands. Cold, hard and heavy. The feel of it between her fingers made her feel contaminated by the sin it radiated; she felt almost dirty.
Makarov took a step forward, his eyes boring into her eyelids as she looked down. Painfully slowly, he reached out. He grasped the end of the gun and slowly pulled it away from her. She knew by the manner in which he moved that he wasn't intending to take it back off her, so she kept her hand enclosed around the handle as he guided the shooting end towards him. Her arm raised in the process, until it was fully extended in front of her, and he was pressing the muzzle of the gun against his forehead.
"Do it."
When she tried to pull her arm back, he gripped the gun tighter, keeping it in place against his skull.
"Do it."
She stared at him, blinking quickly as tears welled up in her eyes. He let go of the gun, and lowered his hand to his side. He pushed his head against the cold metal, jolting her balance slightly.
"Do it."
She clamped her top teeth down on her lip to stop it quivering and her arm trembled.
"Fucking, do-"
She squeezed the trigger hard.
Time seemed to stop moving when the gun let off a small click.
He lifted an arm and pushed the gun away from his direction, knocking it out of her limp hand and sending it clattering to the floor.
A wide, sickening smirk spread across his face, and he gave her hard, meaningful eyes before he turned and walked away, the gun still spinning on the floor.
Suddenly realising that she was taking abnormally long to take the gun from him, and noticing his eyebrow had arched behind his glasses, Eva wrapped her hand around the handle and gently pulled the pistol out of Ghost's hand. He watched as she stared down at it, her face oddly blank, but he turned around after a few moments and pointed at the target boards at the end of the range. It was just his character; he didn't ask questions, because he didn't care. At moments when a spark of interest would ignite in others and they would begin to think into things, Ghost didn't.
"Try shooting the target." he said, nodding in its direction.
Eva stood beside him, the gun still held awkwardly close to her body. Wrapping her other hand over the one that already gripped the handle, she bent her arms up so the gun was in front of her face yet aiming towards the sky. She stood, preparing herself.
"Have you ever held a gun before?" Ghost asked, looking down at her defined profile. His voice was so steady that it was hard to tell whether he meant it disdainfully or curiously.
Keeping only the side of her face in his view, her body jerked in a mangle of shrugging and head tilting, that was a confusing fusion of nodding and shaking. He stared down at her, and she felt heat creep up her neck and wash over her cheeks. He nodded towards the target again, completely immune to the awkward atmosphere around them.
"Straighten your arms out keeping them level with your shoulders." he instructed, his voice still smoothly monotone.
She did as he said, and froze herself in that position still staring ahead.
"Move your legs further apart, you'll get knocked off balance like that." he said, pointing at her boots.
Again, she did as instructed and repositioned her back leg wider apart from her front.
"Alright, now make sure you keep your arms locked out and a tight hold on the gun. Squeeze the trigger slowly, don't go bloody crazy."
She glanced at him quickly from the side of her view before she inhaled. Just as the air left her lips and her finger twitched over the trigger, Ghost interjected.
"Ear protectors." he stated bluntly.
Her lips parted slightly in realisation and she dropped her position and slid the ear defenders over her head and secured them on her ears, still holding the gun in one hand. She looked up at him – the top of her head was only just on level with his jaw – with expectant eyes. He nodded and she re-established the position. She aimed as steadily as she could at the target and with bated breath, pulled the trigger slowly.
She jerked instinctively when the gun fired and her arms buckled slightly from the sheer force of the bullet propelling from the chamber. She wasn't sure if she even hit the target, but a rush of adrenaline had consumed her body and she felt unexpectedly elated. A foreign feeling radiated through her and she couldn't control, nor did she want to, the smile that crept across her face. For the first time in her life, she felt in control. She controlled that gun. She was the one with the power, and it was intoxicating.
She turned to Ghost, a broad grin now completely consuming her face. He didn't react for the few seconds she looked at him, and simply folded his arms across his chest and watched as she unleashed another round on the target.
The metal frame creaked harshly when he sat down on the edge of the low bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and entwined his fingers between his legs. It was late in the evening and Ghost still had his boots, combats and fleeced jacket on. He sat for a moment, only his chest moving as it rose in and out. Exhaling, he reached up and under the neck of his jacket, pulling at the bottom of his balaclava and peeled it up over his head. He rubbed his face roughly with the palm of his hand before tossing it onto the stand beside his bed. Leaning to one side, he delved into his pants pocket and extracted his sunglasses, setting them beside the crumpled mask.
He was now nothing more than an ordinary man. Young and tired-looking. He dragged a hand through his flattened hair and lifted his legs onto the bed, resting his head against the wall. Not many knew that Simon Riley had soft brown hair, shaved at the sides but more free on the top. Not many could tell that his skin was a warm caramel colour. Not many could say they knew he had steel grey eyes, that when caught the light, had a tint of cold blue. Not many could describe his straight angled nose or picture his pronounced rounded lips. Not many could say they were friends of Simon Riley. Even less could say they understood the man.
Only a few could begin to imagine how broken he was.
No one knew Simon Riley was haunted by nightmares every night.
And that's exactly how he liked it.