The Ghost of You - Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

ADVERSARY

You were led to the auditorium's changing rooms, closing the door to the empty expanse. Hand-to-hand combat? Fuck... You thought, walking to one of the mirrors mounted above a counter full of sinks. You turned on the sink, letting the cold water run through your cupped hands. You bent down and splashed it across your face, coming up for air and to dry your face off. You felt the buzz of your cell phone against your thigh and reached in to grab it. It was a text from General Hodges.

GH: Where are you?

Y/N: At the base. They're making me fight for a spot in the task force... literally.

GH: Remember your training. I'll call you later tonight.

Y/N: 10-4

You sighed, tossing the device on top of the closed bag and unfolding your uniform you were given. You stripped from your civilian clothes, packing them away along with your cell phone. First, you put on the plain black crew neck, adjusting the sleeves above your wrist. Then, you dressed in the gray joggers and retied your shoes. You checked yourself in the dimly lit vanity mirror, being the only source of light in the bleak changing room. You startled from the sound of knocking, Price's voice following shortly after. "Almost ready? The boys are waiting for you." You settled your heart rate, grabbing your duffel bag and striding to the door. "Yes, sir. Coming."

You opened it to reveal Price leaned against the wall and he immediately straightened his posture upon your arrival. "Everything fit?" He asked, and you gave a semi-enthusiastic 'mhm' in response, looking down to admire your clothes. "Good, let's get going." He led, and you followed closely like a lost puppy. Two wooden, double doors were opened wide at the end of the hallway, the light from the room illuminating the dark hallway. It was very obvious it was after operating hours now. Most of the lights in the crossroads of hallways were turned off, and guards were patrolling the ends of each.

Muffled and incoherent chatter came from the auditorium the closer you got, and your heart began to race against your skull. Together, you and Price entered the extensive auditorium, and the rows were filled shoulder to shoulder with SAS personnel and soldiers. Each section was broken up into different colored PT shirts, some blue, some yellow, some white, and finally you found a section with the matching black crew necks. When you entered, a hush fell over the room and each pair of eyes burned into your person in judgment. At the bottom of the bleachers stood three men in different colored shirts, all who exhibited a somber look in their eyes.

Price's hand centered on your upper back, guiding you to the middle of the gym floor on a blue, soft practice mat. You stood still, your knees locking beneath you in the middle of the gym. "I'd like to welcome a possible new recruit! This is Y/N, and she has an excellent background in hand-to-hand combat; So, I want these gents to give it everything they've got." He motioned over to the three soldiers, and the crowd uproared before settling back down. "First, we have Private Kilson. He will represent our new recruit unit where most people like you will end up initially." A ginger haired, young recruit sporting a white shirt jogged on the mat, earning a wave of cheers from his section of the bleachers.

"Show us your skills, Y/N. The only rule is to not aim for their head. We don't need any concussions tonight." Price warned, leaving you at the mat and standing beside the candidates. You let out a shaky breath, turning your focus to the soldier a few feet in front of you. I'm gonna feel bad about doing this to a new recruit, but there's no room for pity now. You matched his beginning stance, and the captain whistled to signal the start of the match. Right off the bat, the new recruit came at you in a sprint and extended his leg to kick you in the chest. You braced down, grabbing his ankle and turning it to the side. Your opponent cried out in pain, being frozen in your grasp as you took your next opportunity. You advanced forward and stuck your hand under his arm, swiftly adjusting your grasp to reach on the outskirts of his legs. Your hands met his calves and you hoisted him up and to the side, slamming him on the mat. The recruit groaned in pain, gasping for air after being tossed on his back. "Agh! Fuck-" He winced, rolling to his side on the ground.