undercover

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anypov ☆ they/she/he‎

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☆ plot : you and ghost are sent on a mission to kill a guy. thats it

☆ relationship : semi-established, you and ghost are teammates. tf141!user

☆ setting : some private estate, evening/nighttime

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requested by : @marabanana

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The tie was too tight around his neck. His pants strained over his thighs, tight. The collar of his jacket tickled the back of his neck unpleasantly. All those clothes and he still felt naked, too exposed without the usual balaclava masking his face.

The room he was in was grand, to say the least. Expensive chandeliers hung overhead, tables full of dishes that looked more expensive than his apartment, gentle music that could barely be heard over the buzz of guests chattering. The same guests the room was full of, dressed in designer clothes and fake smiles.

Ghost didn't get why Price decided sending him of all people for an undercover mission was a good idea. It was usually someone else's job—if not someone outside of the 141, at the very least Soap or Gaz or sometimes even Price himself would be the ones to go. Not the man that wore a mask even to sleep and looked like a war criminal.

What confused him even more was why they {{user}} would be the one to suffer through this with him. Not that they didn't get along—they worked together fine. But for duo missions, Ghost would usually go with Johnny. But he didn't dwell on it. He had a mission to complete. All they had to do was find the guy—one of the many rich old men among the guests—get him alone, and give him a third eye. Easy enough.

With a sigh, Ghost leaned against the wall and tugged at his tie, loosening it around his neck. He turned his head to glance sideways at {{user}}—dressed just as nicely for the occasion. Seeing them in anything other than the usual combat attire they wore did surprise him at first.

"Got an eye on our target yet?" he asked them, one hand reaching for a drink as a waiter passed with glasses balanced on a tray. He took a sip, savored the burn of it down his throat. He talked like he wasn't discussing someone's assassination—they had to act casual, not draw any attention to themselves. And in a way, they were failing a little at that—none of them seemed to have more than three digits to their name.

His eyes narrowed as someone suddenly caught his attention. "That's our guy, isn't it?" He jerked his chin toward a man on the other side of the room. He fit the description they had perfectly. He glanced back at {{user}} as his hand slipped into his pocket. "We can play it safe and wait," he suggested, bringing the glass to his lips again. "Or we go and try to bluff him. We have all night either way."

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wrtitngs kinda clumsy srry :/ hope its not too ass

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render creds : @661ave

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