vinnie is a bit shitty

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick had always liked to be good. To do good. He was a police sergeant when he was randomly plucked from his position and placed into the 141.

He was good, he followed the captains orders and never disobeyed. He got along well with the rest of the team. He did everything right.

When Soap died, everything went lopsided.

Price killed Shepherd.

It wasn’t long after that when Price came to him, begging for Gaz to hide him. Kyle was conflicted, he couldn’t hide Price, I mean, they would check his home, obviously. So he gave him an address away from here where they wouldn’t look.

When they visited his home, he lets them in and they look around, rather messily. They don’t find anything.

Everything goes by normally from there, until Ghost reaches out to him, skips the pleasantries, and asks him where Price is.

Gaz couldn’t do it anymore. He had been so good. He had obeyed without any questions. What had Price ever done for him? He had been a manipulator and he never really cared about Kyle, did he?

So Gaz spilled, he told Ghost everything.

Gaz was good, wasn’t he?

He gave away Price’s location to Ghost. Who knew what Ghost was going to do? Kill him? Turn him in?

Kyle had no idea if he was good.

He will never feel good again.

simon riley, the man who had been through so much and somehow managed to survive it all. could he survive this? he didn’t know.

the last thing he remembers is looking through the scope on his sniper, watching out for enemies. he hadn’t thought to look behind him. why would he? he was on high ground away from danger.

but he clearly wasn’t.

because now he’s here. a dark, humid, gross, metallic-y area.

his mask is off, he’s tied to a chair(?), and he can’t see shit.

he’s alone.

he thinks.

then he hears footsteps. great.

some idiot with an accent he could hardly understand, considering he didn’t understand soaps accent half the time. they are interrogating him, he thinks. he can’t really tell.

he stops listening halfway through, just staring off to as far as he can see.

then comes the pain. a crushed finger, but he won’t break. he’s been through worse. another, great. then the idiot spits in his face and walks off.

“barely let out a noise, you already dead?” comes a hoarse voice somewhere else in the room. “what’re they trying to get outa you?”

simon riley doesn’t answer. from the accent, he can tell it’s an american.

“you’re gonna be like that? rude.” a broken noise, supposed to be a laugh, comes out of you. “just gets worse from here.” you inform the new hostage.

you are(were) an american soldier. you’ve been held captive by these russian jerks for…shit. for how long? whatever. you are close to the end of your life. you can feel it. just a few more days, hopefully.

it’s weird how one can feel their death when it’s close.

then, the other night, they brought in a new guy. so, you try to make conversation. why not? what do you have to lose? but he’s a silent, weird jerk.

“how long have you been ‘ere?” the deep, british accent says

“forgot” you respond, shaken out of your thoughts. that earns you a grunt

he doesn’t know if you’re apart of their plan, that if he starts talking to you then he’ll spill all his secrets, but he’ll take his chances with some entertainment

it’s silent for awhile before footsteps come again. the surgeon, you’ve recognized. what else were you supposed to do, chained up here? wow, they’re escalating fast. guess they learned from you. “good luck” you say.

you manage to fall asleep before you hear the little noises of pain he lets out.

few weeks(?) later, he’s warmed up to you, you think. you guys talk about your teams, your positions, your families, your favorite things, how you always wanted to go to England, simple things that don’t give away much.

one day, footsteps come downstairs, they come to you. so you’re bickering to them, when then there is a loud noise, an unmistakable gunshot, and you fall silent

simon riley feels his heart sink to the ground. he hears an angry russian mutter before the footsteps fade. he brings himself to hesitantly call out your name, in which brings no response. fuck. no.

he desperately pulls at his chains, to no avail, calling your name louder. he yells until his voice goes hoarse and he is unable to let out any sound.

for the next few days, he is stuck with your corpse. he can only hope that there is a chance you could be alive.

then there is commotion going on somewhere in the building. guns firing, shouting, lot of loud noise. “reckon we’re being saved?” he asks to you, in which you don’t respond, for obvious reasons.

Captain Price is the first one to him. he frees simon, helping him stand. simon doesn’t look at him. he looks at you for the first fucking time since he’s been in this hellhole. he tries to get over to you, and with the help of price, he is able to.

God, you were beautiful. he knows it. he stares at your empty eyes, ones he knows used to hold life. He holds your damaged, pale face. He cries for the first time since he was a child.

They carry your body back. The team doesn’t ask him who you were. He doesn’t say. Laswell manages to identify you. They take your ashes to America.

Simon Riley doesn’t last long after that. Every single night he is able to sleep, he dreams of you. What you would look like smiling, laughing, everything.

He is found dead with a sticky pool of crimson around him in a bath.

Because simon riley loved you.

Price doesn't really understand transgender-ness, but he doesn't hate it because of that, so when he recruits you to his team, on the file as a woman (though he doesn't care the gender, Laswell said so), show up looking as a man, he has to double take on the file. there has to be an error? why else would it be like that?

You're a short mean man, fast in the field and whenever he needs a pickup joke. Kind and outgoing, Price knew he made the right choice, though something never felt right to him.

You never shower when the others do, even after a mission and you've got blood and dirt dried around your body, you'll wait until the others are out. Of course Price understands (he thinks), he used to have body issues when he was a younger lad like you, so he never bugged you about it.

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Okay, so now imagine you were hit by a bullet, you hadn’t even seen it coming. an enemy sniper perched away from view. Quickly shooting down the sniper after, Price had rushed over to you despite his training saying otherwise. he puts pressure on the wound as your vision goes blurry. falling unconscious, John rushes to taking off your gear to get straight to the wound and put pressure on it directly, desperate for stopping the bleeding. He doesn’t even notice the binder (or scars), too focused on the wound.

You wake up in a hospital, eyes sensitive and squinting in the bright light. You try to remember what happened, when it flashes to you again. You look to the right of you, where your captain is fast asleep, looking disheveled and sleep deprived. You sit up, wincing in pain slightly. A nurse rushes in when she notices you being awake and starts taking your vitals and stuff (idk what nurses do other than give you shots). Price stirs in his sleep and wakes up, relief flooding over his body.

“you’re awake, bloody christ”

“aye, captain.” you say, your voice is scratchy and rough from the days of sleeping

“i - we werent sure what would happen” he replies, standing up after to ask the nurse for a glass of water for you.

after a few moments of silence and you slowly processing where you are, he breaks the silence.

“are you a girl?” he asks bluntly, unsure and looking a bit embarrassed himself

“pardon?” you ask.

a pink spreads on his neck “well, you have, uh-“ he motions to his chest, then to yours, a humorous action if it wasn’t to a trans man

“no, no, i’m not a girl- well i was born one but i transitioned. im a guy now, i can grow a mustache and i take testosterone, you know the medication you approve for me.” you reply awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed yourself

“so you’re one of those transgenders? that explains..some” he says, thinking deeply. he isn’t used to this kind of stuff, he typically deals with terrorists and killing people, not this..

“yeah, i thought you knew?” you respond to him

“should’ve figured, i’m not all that logical outside of work” he responds, taking off his hat unconsciously

“so nothing changes?” you ask tentatively

“aye, nothing changes” he nods

Anyone else feel like Simon Riley would be a total loser under his mask? Like let’s say he’s put on leave, so he goes to his apartment he hasn’t been to in 2 years. He runs into a neighbor and quotes this really old movie reference that nobody will ever understand that is about someone running into another. The neighbor walks off confused and in pain from the bruise Simon had likely planted when he ran into them.

Coffee shop, he is in a coffee shop ordering a drink. This man doesn’t know anything about coffee, he sort of just drinks the coffee in the mess hall of the military base. He eventually settles for a mocha unknowingly. People stare at him as he gags at the sudden sweetness when he was expecting bitterness (“like me heart” i imagine he would say if one asked. loser.).

I imagine him saying the corniest lines known to man, like “it’s black, like my soul.” and poor Simon doesn’t understand why people laugh at him. He thought that was cool. but he doesn’t care, he’s Ghost.