"What are you made of?" a Ghost x reader fanfic.

Book smart or street smart?

As Mikhail's hand darted towards his gun, a surge of adrenaline shot through me. With a quick and decisive movement, I reached for the knife strapped to my belt, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the room. Without hesitation, I lunged forward, aiming for Mikhail's wrist with all the force I could muster.

The blade sliced through the air with a sharp hiss, finding its mark with deadly precision. A cry of pain tore from Mikhail's lips as the knife plunged into his wrist, the force of the impact causing him to drop the gun with a clatter to the ground. Blood welled from the wound, staining his sleeve crimson as he stumbled back, clutching his injured limb in a futile attempt to stem the flow.

With a fierce determination, I pressed the advantage, moving in to disarm him before he could recover. I kicked the gun away, sending it skittering across the floor, out of reach. Mikhail's eyes blazed with a mix of pain and rage as he glared at me, his breathing ragged and desperate.

"You'll pay for that," he spat, his voice laced with venom as he struggled to regain his composure. But I was undeterred, my grip on the knife steady as I stood my ground, ready to defend myself against whatever retaliation he might attempt.

As Mikhail tackled me to the ground, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs, I felt the weight of his body pressing down on me. His fists rained down upon me in a relentless barrage, each blow landing with a sickening thud that reverberated through my body. I grunted in pain with each strike, the taste of blood filling my mouth as I struggled to defend myself.

Desperation clawed at me as I reached for the knife, intent on turning the tide of the fight. But Mikhail was quick to react, his grip tightening around my wrist, preventing me from using the blade against him. His strength was overwhelming, his hold unyielding as he pinned me to the ground, his face contorted with a twisted mix of anger and triumph.

Panic surged within me as I realized the gravity of the situation. Trapped beneath Mikhail's weight, my movements restricted and my options dwindling, I frantically searched for a way to break free. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more desperate than the last, as I fought to keep a clear head amidst the chaos.

With a surge of adrenaline, I twisted and writhed beneath him, using every ounce of strength I had to try and dislodge him. But his hold was unbreakable, his grip like a vice that refused to release its hold. The taste of defeat lingered on my tongue, but I refused to succumb to despair.

As the seconds ticked by, my heart pounded in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears like a drumbeat of determination. I knew that I had to find a way out of this predicament, to turn the tables on Mikhail and emerge victorious in this brutal struggle. With a final, desperate effort, I mustered all the strength I had left, channeling it into one last, desperate attempt to break free from his grasp and reclaim control of the fight.
As the weight of Mikhail's body pressed down on me, his fists raining down upon me with brutal force, a surge of rage and defiance welled up within me. With a primal scream of fury, I lashed out, slamming my head into his with all the strength I could muster. The impact sent a shockwave of pain reverberating through my skull, but it was enough to momentarily disorient him.

Seizing the opportunity, I pushed him off me, my body aching and bruised from the relentless onslaught of his blows. With a renewed sense of determination, I sprang to my feet, my fists flying as I unleashed a barrage of punches upon him. Each strike was fueled by a mix of anger and desperation, the sound of impact echoing in the room as I fought with everything I had.

Grasping the knife that had fallen to the ground during our struggle, I lunged forward, the blade gleaming in the dim light as I drove it into Mikhail's chest with a swift, decisive motion. A strangled cry escaped his lips as the blade pierced his flesh, the look of shock and disbelief in his eyes as he realized his defeat.

With a final, guttural scream, I twisted the knife, ensuring that he would never rise again. The room fell silent, save for the sound of our labored breaths and the dull thud of his body hitting the ground. A sense of grim satisfaction washed over me as I stood over his fallen form, the weight of what I had done settling heavily upon my shoulders.

But there was no time for remorse or hesitation. With aching limbs and a heart still pounding with adrenaline, I knew that the fight was far from over. With a steely resolve, I turned my gaze towards the door, determination burning bright in my eyes as I steeled myself for the next challenge that awaited me. Vladimir would pay for his crimes, and I would not rest until justice was served.