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Ghost’s eyes opened in a second.
That was normally how he awoke, on mission, off mission, it was like a switch flipped. One second he was asleep, the next awake.
It had been like that for a while now. With better hearing, it made sleeping peacefully a little tough. And with a better nose, it made staying asleep a little tough. His eyes worked better too, but mostly in the dark.
His overall nature was to be up at night, but when work demanded he sleep, he did.
Ghost had been stuck on this mission with Johnny, always with Johnny on these types of missions.
The missions where he was required to shift, where he was supposed to destroy entire bases in seconds with minimal sound and minimal explosives.
Of course, he would be able to do it without any explosives, but that wasn’t usually Johnny’s style, so he had to settle.
Ghost had awoken first, as per usual, and he took a moment to look around the room. John was still passed out, laid on his back with his arms tucked behind his head, laying on some hay.
Price had taken point sometime earlier that night, and was on surveillance duty. He was running this mission, since Ghost was going to be… well, incapacitated, he supposes.
Ghost didn’t hate what he was, he simply found that it was… less than desirable to be on the shifting end. He wasn’t completely feral or entirely something else, but he was certainly more prone to violence and anger.
Really, Johnny was the only one who could keep a good handle on him when he was shifted.
It had taken some time for him to come to terms with the fact that Johnny, demolitions expert, half-idiot half-genius, Scottish, rat bastard Johnny, was the only one who could get a leash on the dog.
As much as he hated it, the sergeant had quickly settled into the little soft spot Simon had, and now Ghost was stuck with him, both in his everyday human life, and on every single mission that the 141 needed a giant dog.
That included this mission, which was supposed to be a quick night op. A simple, find and execute the target, destroy the evidence, and then get the hell out of dodge.
And it would be that, Ghost was sure of it, but there’s always the part of his brain that itches whenever he knows there’s even a chance that things could go wrong.
He shakes his legs out, shaking his arms and head after too, just to get out the excess jitters. Apparently, his shaking woke up Johnny, who was now sitting up and grabbing his kit.
“Glad to see you up, Ghost. We got to move, big guy,” Soap pats the side of his maw, directing him out of the barn they were holed up in and onto the field, where they both slink into the shadow.
“Bravo 6 to Bravo 7-1, I’ve taken overwatch. Are you in position?”
“We’re good, Captain. Just tell us when.” Soap confirmed, and he turned to Ghost, whose bright blue slitted eyes seemed to gleam in the dim moonlight. Frightening, to anyone but Johnny.
The two kept an eye on the little base that was just across the small line of trees. It was a shadow company base, and really the 141 were just cleaning up after Shepherd's mess, eventually going to clean him up too.
There was a gentle buzz in the air, and Soap couldn’t tell if it was the giant werewolf behind him, or if it was the general adrenaline rush from missions, or if it was the anticipation. Whatever it was, it was pleasant, and Johnny felt just a little more prepared.
“Soap, target confirmed in range.”
Johnny let a feral grin take over his face, and the two moved to an unguarded side of the building, Soap quickly taking out the light and shrouding it in darkness before planting a small charge on the wall, getting ready to blow a hole in the wall, hopefully big enough that Ghost could just run in.
“Copy sir,” Ghost could see and hear the feral grin, a low growl building in his throat, anticipation swirling in his gut. “Sending in the Ghost.”
The charge on the wall blew, Soap tossing a smoke grenade inside, a large cloud shrouding the entrance.
He could only imagine what the sight must look like from the inside. John stepped to where the breach was, hearing shouts and gunfire. He heard it all stop for a moment, and he felt Ghost’s presence behind him.
“Get ‘em, Ghost.”
John would describe what he saw as ‘all hell breaking loose,’ but he knew better. Ghost wasn’t some rabid hellhound, but instead a precise killer.
Anyone he mauled was either a meal or a weapon.
The sites Ghost covered as a beast had a few neat piles of bodies, not murder sprawled across the entire place. If men were sturdy enough, they were thrown to knock down others, and if Ghost was hungry enough? Kevlar was like seasoning.
It didn’t take long for the gunfire to die down, all that was left after being shouting, coughing, and scrabbling.
Whatever Ghost had left behind (which usually wasn’t much) was John’s responsibility, and the Scot took a moment to take out his pistol and put a cap in whatever poor lad Ghost had torn a hole in but neglected to finish off.
“Base is clear, I’m getting our dog back,” Soap radioed, and Price radioed back an affirmative.
“You’ve got thirty minutes till evac gets here, best get him back down now.”
Soap took a deep breath. He had gotten Ghost back down in less time, but the werewolf was currently tearing a man apart between his teeth, his head whipping back and forth in an attempt to rip him in half.
“Hey, big guy,” Johnny started, and Ghost whipped around, faster than fast, the shadow company member still tucked between his teeth, blood dripping ghoulishly from his maw. “We got to go soon, you know what that means, aye?” Johnny finished, reaching a hand up.
Ghost brought his head down on instinct, and Johnny smiled.
“Och, there’s my big sweet guy,” He cooed, his hands petting along the side of Ghost’s maw despite the blood and gore. Ghost slowly lowered more of himself, eventually sitting on the floor, the man that was in his mouth now tossed somewhere else, thrown into one of the many piles.
Soap smiled up at the werewolf, gently tracing the skull shape that had taken form on his face, covering the entirety of his face from the tip of his nose to the base of his ears. The brown fur that covered the rest of him was relatively clean, but the white fur on his face was soaked in the remnants of their mission, and Soap made a noise of distaste.
“You need a bath, and we need to get home, huh?” Johnny smiled, and he could hear the thump of Ghost’s tail hitting the floor. “You’re alright, I’ve got clothes for you in my bag, the sooner you get back to normal the sooner we can get you clean and get you home, now c’mon,” Johnny tried, grabbing on the thigh straps that Ghost still liked to have on. Nothing scarier than a giant werewolf with thigh straps.
John heard the small sounds of protest coming from Ghost, which were typical, since John knew that it was more than unpleasant having to shift back and forth, but he shushed him nonetheless, patting the side of his maw and moving one hand up to get him behind the ear.
“C’mon, big guy, none of that now. We need you back in shape for the debrief. Could ya’ do it fer me?” Johnny all but pouted, knowing that it always got Simon to do whatever he wanted, giant werewolf or not.
He felt Ghost push his maw into his hand and sigh, huffing and puffing as he stood back up to stretch and turn a few times before a high whine broke out through the base, and Johnny turned away (per Simon’s several requests after previous transformations) and waited until he heard the telltale exhausted groan of Ghost.
Soap kicked his duffel behind him, Simon grumbling a thank you and slipping on his clothes before telling John it was fine to turn back around.
“There ya are,” John cooed again, moving to pinch Ghost’s cheeks the mask. The Brit just grumbled some more, grabbing Johnny’s wrists and shoving his hands away.
“I’m not a dog, Johnny, now let’s go,” Ghost reprimanded, shoving John in the direction of the extraction point, and Soap just laughed.
“A’right, not anymore. I cannae help ma’self sometimes,” He teased, and Simon rolled his eyes, tossing the duffel to Johnny as they went.
“I really should just maul you,” Ghost grumbled, and Soap gawked, making a few offended Scottish noises before scoffing.
“You love me too much to try n’ eat me, ya bastard!” He argued, walking backwards just to shove a finger to Ghost’s chest. The Brit sighed, shaking his fondly as he pushed past him, spotting the heli in the open field.
“Unfortunately.”