#cod shifting

Simon Riley moved through the corridor with practiced ease, boots silent against concrete, rifle steady. Bodies lay where they shouldn’t—clean, efficient takedowns. Not his work.

Someone else was inside.

He slowed, tracking the absence of sound more than the presence of it. No alarms. No radio chatter. Just a faint shift of air behind a doorway that should’ve been guarded.

Ghost cleared the corner—and stopped.

A figure stepped from the shadows, hood up, suppressed SMG angled but not raised. Her movements were precise, controlled. Not startled. Not aggressive. Steel-gray eyes flicked over his mask, his stance, his weapon, and settled.

Assessment complete.

Neither of them spoke.

For a split second, they stood there—two ghosts colliding in the same kill zone. Then she lifted two fingers in a brief signal, pointing down the hall. Hostiles. Incoming.

Ghost answered with a single nod.

They moved together without discussion. She slipped ahead, silent and fast, clearing the path before he reached it. Guards dropped without a sound. When it went loud—because it always did—she didn’t panic. Her breathing stayed even, her shots deliberate.

The mission unraveled fast. Intel compromised. Someone had sold them out.

Extraction was delayed.

They fought their way toward the fallback point, back to back, instinctively covering each other’s blind spots. When shrapnel tore past and caught her along the jaw, she barely reacted—only tightened her grip and kept moving.

Ghost noticed anyway.

When the evac window shrank and command ordered a pullout, he ignored it. He grabbed her arm and hauled her through smoke and debris, dragging them both clear as the compound burned behind them.

They were the last two out.

On the tarmac, medics rushed in. She shrugged them off long enough to look at him, eyes sharp despite the blood.

“Vex,” she said finally. A name, not an introduction.

“Ghost,” he replied.

That was all.

By the time he looked again, she was gone—disappeared into another unit, another file, another layer of redaction.

Months later, when Price attached a new operative to Task Force 141, Ghost didn’t need the briefing.

Captain Vexia Sinclair stepped into the room, scar faint but visible, expression unreadable.

Their eyes met.

Same silence. Same understanding.

Same unspoken truth—

I was apart of the task force as a team medic and my s/o was gonna be gaz or ghost. And I also had one of my friend’s OCs scripted in. It was supposed to be somewhat canon, from a military aspect (obviously soap didn’t die) but it was game focused.

I’m not currently shifting there now but I feel like I’ll go back to shifting there, maybe with a more domestic twist because I’m not sure I want to experience war (crazy coming from someone who shifts to the hunger games-) Maybe something like, they’re on leave and we all met, or perhaps taking the task force and putting them in a different au