siren song - chapter 1
previous chapter: prologue
next chapter: chapter 2
A/N: First, thank you so so so much for all your kind words!! I did not expect for this to get as many notes as it did! I'm so happy you guys are excited bc I am too! That being said, this is a long one! Also I changed it to a reader insert bc I think it fits better. If you haven't played the campaign, this mission is straight from it with most dialogue being the same. I really wanted this to feel like you were there the whole time. A lot of it is that mission but there's a small gift at the end ;) Our MC's femme fatale ways will return in full force next chapter!
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Ghost
27 August 2022
2330, Classified location, Al Mazrah
Ghost approached the helicopter, listening to General Shepard.
"You're wheels up in five."
"Roger."
"Marines are loading in now. You'll be leading with two Sergeants."
"Two?"
"Soap MacTavish and Siren."
Ghost scoffed under his breath. "No last name?"
"It's classified."
Before he could make a smart remark, one of the many soldiers coming off a truck approached him. "Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt.?" The man addressed him causally, causing Ghost to assume this was "Soap".
Soap lightly punched his shoulder. "Save ya a seat sir."
Just his chipper attitude was enough to make Ghost brace for a long mission. As he was about to go board the helicopter as well, a black SUV stopped close to him, and the backdoor opened to reveal a woman in tactical gear, helmet in her hands, and a rifle on her back. She quickly walked towards him and he took in her appearance; hair pulled back into a ponytail, an objectively beautiful face, and piercing eyes. It was her expression that made him pause. She didn't sport any particular expression, almost as if her own skin was the mask, hiding all underneath.
Almost as if he couldn't help himself, his gaze wavered. He silently scolded himself as he looked her up and down, his steady pulse feeling more fleeting than normal. Once reaching him, she stuck out her hand and looked him straight in the eyes, not even acknowledging his skull. "Siren, sir. Nice to meet you."
Logically, Ghost knew there was another Sergeant, he was told so. But for some reason, he was taken aback at the beautiful and seemingly fairly young woman in front of him. It was clear she was an American, the only one on their current team.
He shook her hand, noting that her hands were much smaller, but her grip was just as strong as his. "Ghost," he replied. "Board the heli, we're leaving in a few."
There was something about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she was hypnotizing, and by the look in her eyes, dangerous too.
"Fucking hell."
----
Siren
27 August 2022
2345, In helicopter en route to Al Mazrah
You sat in between two marines who kept glancing at you, not that you payed any mind. No, you were more intrigued by the man in front of you. The man with the deep, British accent: the Liutenant. He wore a skull mask on top of a balaclava, the only thing truly visible was his eyes. Those same eyes gave you a thorough look over earlier, not bothering to hide the action. Unlike most men he didn't shy away from sustained eye contact.
In fact, his gaze was on you right now and intense; it made you feel a flicker of something you hadn't felt in a very long time.
You cocked your eyebrow, asking what he was looking at.
His eyes then narrowed as if to say: Indeed, what am I looking at?
It felt like a contest, seeing which would break first; the tension felt like—
“So what’s your name?”
Soap, the Sergeant with a Scottish accent, interrupted the intense moment, bringing everyone’s attention to you.
“Siren.” You replied, not bothering to elaborate.
There was a pause, Soap looking at you expectantly. And while he wasn’t looking anymore, you could sense that the Lieutenant’s curiosity was also peaked.
“Why?” The Sergeant asked.
You took a breath. It was always…. odd to explain your name. It’s not like you chose it. And for those who were stupid enough, would comment about your “tactics.” You didn’t know these men, and they didn’t know you; it was probably better that way.
“I suppose if we’re working together,” you started, “you’ll find out eventually.”
And with that, you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you chose to examine your rifle, the SP-X 80; reliable, and quick— two of your favorite things in a weapon. You did like getting up close and personal, the adrenaline, the satisfaction at successful fooling others into believing you were some innocent but seductive woman instead of a cold-hearted killer. However, if you couldn’t do it close, you liked being far.
Eventually Ghost stood up and began his brief.
“Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.”
The marines singalled their affirmative, whether by nods or a “Yes sir.” You and Soap both got up to follow Ghost as he went to exit the helicopter.
“Keep up Soap, Siren,” he threw over his shoulder as he stepped out.
You put on your helmet, slung both the rifle and an M4 over your back, and put on your night vision goggles, everything appearing in shades of blue.
“Razor-1, all Bravo deployed. Moving to secondary HLZ.”
The helicopter flew on ahead while you and the others with you moved forward through the destroyed cobblestone.
All of sudden, shots were being fired ahead, followed by a panicked pilot on comms. “All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit!”
“Incoming-Flares! Flares!” flares erupted from the helicopter, narrowly avoiding being taken out by a missile. “Shit that was close!”
Before anyone could echo their relief, you saw something out of the corner of your eye, something headed straight towards the heli.
“Second missile!” you yelled into the comms. Unfortuantely it was too quick for them to react and you and the rest of the Bravo team watched the missile collide with the helicopter, sending it spiraling downwards.
“Razor-1 going down! We’re going down!”
It crashed into the ground, landing in the middle of some buildings and erupting into flames prompting Ghost to try to hail the other team. “Alpha, what’s your status?”
Gunshots began to ring out, aimed at the downed aircraft. There was still no response from the comms and you watched the Liteunant attempt to contact them again. “Alpha, how copy?”
Finally, the channel crackled to life. “Bravo—Alpha is immobile. Multiple critical!”
“Oh shit! We’re taking effective fire!”
All you could do was watch in dismay as gunfire rained down on the heli, with only a few shots being returned.
“Alpha,” Ghost radioed, “we’re moving to building 1. Hold tight.”
At that, Soap swung his head towards the Liteunant, “Ghost, we need to secure that crash site now.”
Ghost shook his head, “First we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear?”
“Roger that.” Soap said.
“Roger,” you echoed.
The team crept closer, guns sweeping in all directions as you moved through the farm plots and up to the building. As you reached the top of the hill where the backdoor was, you began to here Al-Qatala forces talking, yelling to keep firing at the helicopter, anticipating more of us would show up to aid the Alpha team. While it may have seemed cold, Ghost was right; you could admire that: making those hard decisions, ones that seemed heartless to everyone else.
You swapped out your sniper rifle for your M4 and aimed at the door. Ghost pulled out a sledgehammer, “Breacher up!” and smashed the door down, seemingly taking very little effort on his part. Two people were inside, immediately taken out by five people simoltanelously firing.
“Sweep through,” he ordered. Both floors were clear of both AQ and Hassan, as announced by two marines.
Almost immediately, though, one of them shouted into their comms, “Contact! Building two!”
“They know we’re here!” Ghost shouted. You switched back to your sniper and aimed for the opposite building. You took out two while Soap, also sporting a sniper rifle, took out the others.
“All stations, crash site is taking rocket fire from building two, second deck!”
“Alpha,” Ghost responded, “taking building two now, hold fast!” He gestured for the team to follow him towards the back of building two and instructed Soap to enter through the window. You followed Ghost in, and watched as he threw a knife and hit an AQ member dead center in the face. While you didn’t have time to think too hard about it now, you noted to file that memory for later. He kneeled, pulling the knife out of the man’s face before gesturing to go upstairs. Before you could move forward too much, the soldier infront of you was shot from a room attached to the hallway. “I’m hit!”
You quickly shot his attacker and he mumbled, “Someone in the next hallway.”
You moved forward with your M4, taking out the person aiming at the heli with a rocket launcher. Soap appeared before and spoke into the comms, “Ghost, Siren took out the enemy rocket.”
“Roger. Time to hit the crash site,” Ghost responded. “Siren, how are you with that rifle?” At some point he removed his night vision googles, revealing his eyes, visible through his mask. Maybe others shied away from his gaze, but you never were one to back down.
You looked him straight in the eye and replied, “Deadly, sir.”
You could have swore his eyes widened a fraction, suprised by your answer.
“Stay here on the balcony for cover fire, rest of Bravo, circle up outside.”
The rest of the team left, talking to your team member who was shot in the chest plate in the hall.
You made your way out to the balcony and laid down, propping up your rifle and watched as Ghost and Soap made their way to the helicopter, everyone else fanning out in front of building two for cover.
The comms crackled with Ghost’s gravely voice, “Expect contact. AQ’s waitin’ for us.”
Both of them were only in the heli for a few seconds before you spotted enemy combatants approaching from the tree line.
“Engage!”
As soon you heard his order, you found your first target. You emptied your mind of all concerns, wrestled control of any errant thoughts of this or that. You took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.
—-
Ghost
28 August 2022
0030, Al Mazrah, U.R.A.
‘Deadly, sir’ she says, he thought to himself. He can hear himself calling out directions of enemies to the others, his firing on autopilot. But everytime a target becomes to close for comfort, they fall, bullet to the head. And he knows Soap is firing in another direction, leaving only one person to be taking them out at a rapid speed.
Something about her prickled his senses. Maybe it was her demeanor, her confidence. Maybe it was that she looked like she knew what everyone else was thinking. Maybe it was that she seemed to challange him with her eyes whenever he looked. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
For now, he didn’t have time to entertain those thoughts, busy on trying to prevent being pinned down by AQ.
After the first wave was over, he ordered for Bravo 7-6 to call in air support, not wanting to get overrun by any reinforcements that were surely on their way.
Before air support could arrive, smoke rolled into the treeline.
“Siren, do you have a visual behind the treeline?” he questioned into the comms.
“Take cover—They have grenade launchers! I’ll take them out!” she responded in an urgent tone.
He heard one shot….two… three… four… five…
“Ghost, launchers gone. More AQ on the field.”
Both he and Soap worked on clearing out the rest of the field, eventually all movement ceasing.
In the stillness, he radioed back to his other Sergeant, “Siren, I need you down here right now.”
“Roger. Moving.”
Soap approached his side, “Ghost, we should fall back to the house.”
“Negative,” Ghost said, “We clear this position and push. If Hassan’s still here, he’s out ahead. 7-6, patch us through to air support.”
“7 Actual, Kilo 0-1. Fire is one mike.”
“Kile 0-1, you’re cleared hot on anything forward of our position. Danger close approved.” As he was talking, Siren joined them in the heli, nodding at him and Soap.
“You’re a damn good shot, lass,” the Scott declared, earning him a small smile from her.
Before he could say anything, Bravo 7-2 interuptted, “Lieutenant, we got armored vehicles incoming. Four of them.”
Ghost was not suprised, but it wasn’t ideal for a downed helicopter to be the only cover you have against APCs.
“Standby for engage!” he ordered. “Get ready….!”
The vehicles made their way onto the field in front of them. “Cut ‘em down!”
They rained gunfire on the vehicles; the air support pilot’s voice broke through: “All Bravo, Kilo 0-1 is inbound hot, danger close.”
“Engaging secondaries.”
The vehicles were taken down in quick fashion, any stragglers also meeting the same fate.
“We clear?” Soap asked.
“Fuckin’ hope so,” Siren replied, still aiming her rifle through the helicopter windows.
After ordering for a bird to be ready for exfiltration he addressed the team in front of him. “Get yourselves sorted. Hassan is still the target.”
“Aye,” Soap approved. “Let’s go get this fucker.”
They quickly moved away from the helicopter site and made for the compound in front of them.
“They used the helicopter as bait,” Siren observed, taking a position on his left.
“They’re well supplied and fighting smart. Thanks to Hassan,” Ghost replied.
The team made their way through a grassy field, frames of various structures littering the area.
Not even a second after the compound came into view, a green laser also appeared. The soldier to the left of Siren was shot, prompting her to yell out and move closer to Ghost. “Fuck! Man down!”
“AQ sniper on the roof!” he called out, “Get down!”
Ghost knew just by her rank that she has seen combat before; hell, she was a sniper herself, she didn’t need his aid. But for some reason, he found himself roughly grabbing her arm and dragging her down to the ground with him. She landed pressed against his side, caught offguard by the force of his pull.
A second passed and she quickly went prone on the ground and both her and Soap aimed for the roof.
“Sniper down!” Soap exclaimed after firing a shot.
“More snipers on the roof, take them out!” Ghost ordered.
Siren fired two shots, one right after the other, and he saw to bodies fall instantly. If nothing else, she was a damn good sharpshooter.
Despite their best efforts, 7-5 was shot.
“They’ve got fucking nightvision,” Siren said as she fired off another shot, “we’re sitting ducks out here.”
She was right, and he knew it. “Soap, Siren! Keep us covered, we’re moving up!”
As he crouched and moved up, he kept hearing the two snipers firing but it wasn’t enough to keep all the heat off of them.
“7-6!” Ghost yelled, “I want air support fire on that building now!”
“Ghost,” Siren said, sounding slightly dumbfounded, “we don’t fucking know if Hassan’s in there!”
He gritted his teeth, annoynace flaring up at the pushback. “They’re forcing our hand! 7-6, hit that building, but don’t level it.”
“Kilo 0-1 to Bravo team, copy that, making our run.”
As soon as he saw the helicopter, he yelled out to the remaining team members, “Force up to that wall! Move!”
Building 3 was lit in a fire, tinted yellow by the nightvision googles, shots coming from every which way.
“That’s a glorious sight,” Ghost said, crouching behind a half crumbled wall.
“Thank Christ for air support,” Soap commented.
“Yeah,” Siren said, swiveling her head towards Ghost, “hope Hassan’s still in one piece…”
“Several pieces will do,” he replied with a smirk hidden behind his balaclava at the way she shook her head in disdain. “Easier to find that way.”
He continued, not waiting for her reply, “All Bravo, move up. I want this building locked down. Lead us in Soap. Siren, behind me. Let’s find Hassan. Dead or alive.”
Siren took a staggered position behind him, an M4 aimed at the opened door.
Soap, barely two steps in, fired at an assailant running for him. Seemingly clear, Ghost entered, followed by Siren.
“Check the bodies,” he ordered. “We need positive ID on Hassan.”
None of the bodies nor any of the alive hostiles Soap encountered were ID’d as Hassan, prompting Ghost to order the team to the second deck.
Soap fell behind while Ghost and Siren lead the others up the stair. A closed door was on the right; Ghost looked at Siren and nodded his head towards it. She took position, aiming at the hallway in front while Ghost approached the door from the side. Ghost didn’t need to open the door as the door began to open, a rifle aimed at Siren.
Ghost opened the door the rest of the way and grabbed the solder by his rifle and slammed him into the wall and quickly shot him in the heart and the head before letting the body hit the ground.
Ghost continued into the room, feeling Siren at his back. “Got two X-rays,” he informed her at the site of the two wounded AQ soldiers in the room. “Dump ‘em.”
Two single shots were fired and they dropped to the ground.
“Clear,” she said.
“Hassan’s everywhere,” Ghost commented to no one in particular. Three screens were playing speeches by him, denouncing the West for taking out Ghorbani.
“Everywhere but here,” Soap retorted.
Soap pushed forward first, follwed by the rest. Several people jumped out but were promptly eliminated.
The room they entered looked well used but had blueprints. Combined with the previous room that had a dozen computers, Ghost called out, “He was here. This is a bloody ops-center. Poke around, Soap.”
Ghost watched Soap move towards the desk after checking the balcony and move around several papers. Then he moved on to the jacket draped over the chair.
“Look,” Soap called out, “Hassan’s uniform.”
“So he was here,” Siren concluded.
Ghost nodded. “Lost him when we secured the crash site.”
Soap looked at him incrediously, “Are you sayin’ we shouln’t have helped?” Interestingly Siren did not seem put off by his statement like Soap was.
“Choices have consequences,” was all Ghost said in reply, not willing to discuss the ethics of prioritizing team or target.
“All Bravo-we got movement out here.”
“On the way,” Ghost said into his radio, locking eyes with Siren on his way out. “All Bravo, circle up outside.”
As they moved out of the building, Soap voiced some of his thoughts out lout. “If Hassan’s gone, then what the hell are they still protecting?”
“Good fucking question,” Ghost heard Siren say somewhere behind him.
The night air fully greeted them once more along with the rest of the Bravo team.
“What do we got?” Ghost questioned.
“A warehouse,” Bravo 7-6 replied. “Roll up door’s open. Heard somethin’ inside.”
“Copy, let’s clear it.”
After entering, the lights suddenly flipped on, forcing them to remove the night vision goggles. Bullets were aimed their way, hitting the shelves they took cover behind. Ghost reached around to fire at the soldiers, being mirrored by Soap and Siren.
“Fuck!” he heard Siren yell loudly. “Grazed me!”
Ghost whipped his head around to see her pull a bloody hand away from her upper thigh
He watched her eyes narrow in fury and continued shooting, not caring about having to lean on her good leg for better support.
Ghost didn’t bother telling her to fall back; the inferno present in her expression told him that it wouldn’t be well recieved or listened to.
Soon enough, all the threats were taken care of, leaving them to finally be able to locate what the hell AQ was so desperate on protecting.
“Search the warehouse. Let’s find what they were hiding….”
Serious weaponry was found along crates of ammunition. Ghost shook his head in slight disbelief at all the hardware present. “This warehouse wasn’t on the intel.”
“Guys, come look at this,” he heard Siren yell.
She stood in front a blue shipping container, gun trained on the doors.
Ghost walked to her side, glancing at her leg, blood visible through her gear.
“It was just a graze,” she said, eyes still on the container. “I’m fine.” Before he could say anything else, Soap approached the doors of the crate and opened it, revealing a server and a control console.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked.
“It’s in English,” Siren observed.
Ghost and the two Sergeants backed up to look above the container.
“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap breathed out.
“Ballistic missiles,” Ghost said, not quite believing his eyes.
“It’s a mobile laucher,” Siren added, “These’ll go 1,000 miles.”
“At least…” Ghost trailed off.
Soap was the first to break out of their stupor, walking around to the side and climbing the crate for a closer look. “How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?”
Siren walked with a slight limp around to the side as well while Ghost hailed Laswell.
“This is Watcher-1, send traffic.”
“Laswell, this is Ghost,” he said as he walked to stand beside Siren. “We got something.”
“Tell me you found Hassan…”
Before he could reply, Soap interupted, “Guys take a look at this…”
Siren let out a quiet gasp and muttered in disbelief, “What the fuck…”
Ghost finally could see what she was suprised at. The missile launcher had an American flag on the side.
“Ghost, do you have Hassan?”
“Negative,” he told Laswell. “We found a weapons cache. Hassan’s got missiles… they’re American.”
General Shepard’s voice broke through. “0-7- this is Gold Eagle Actual, repeat your last…”
“I say again—Hassan has American missiles.”
——
Siren
28 August 2022
0300, Safehouse, somewhere in Al Mazrah
After the missile was found, they were ordered to exfil, with the marines returning to the nearest base while Ghost, Soap, and you stayed in a safehouse for further instructions. The drive was a quiet one, the three of you stuck in your own thoughts about the missile situation.
The safehouse was low-profile, surrounded by nothing but trees. It had three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen you noted as the three of you entered.
“I call first shower!” Soap exclaimed, brushing past you and Ghost, making a beeline for the bathroom. You sat your bag with your weapons and clothing down in the living room before looking in the kitchen for a first aid kit, sporting a slight limp. As you looked around, you heard Ghost venture down the hallway, likely picking a room.
You finally found one under the kitchen sink and took a seat on the couch, rag and kit next to you. You looked at blood from the wound; you could feel it wasn’t very deep, but definitely noticable and painful. As you threaded a needle in preperation, you heard light footsteps behind you. You looked over your shoulder and saw Ghost, mask still present, looking at you. His gaze fell from your face to your thigh. You drew in a steady breath and returned your attention to the needle. Once it was tied off, you wet a rag with rubbing alcohol and set it aside as well.
Before you could do anything else, he walked up to you and spoke for the first time since arriving.
“I’ll stitch you up.”
You nodded, not feeling like arguing, and it was at a weird angle for you to do yourself.
“Stand up and take off your pants,” he said in that deep tone of his, looking at you with piercing brown eyes.
You scoffed quietly and unbuttoned the top before gently stepping out of your pants.
“No dinner first?” you teased, standing before him in only your long sleeved shirt and black underwear.
“I usually skip straight to desert,” he said as he kneeled in front of you, eye level with your wound. You sucked in a breath at the sight; it had been a long time since a man kneeled in front of you other than to beg for his life.
He grabbed your injured leg with one hand, while the other grabbed the cloth and began to clean the wound. You hissed at the stinging sensation but otherwise stayed still. Maybe you should have been making some small talk but you found it hard to focus between the pain and the hand wrapped around your thigh to keep it still.
“Good work on the mission,” Ghost said, placing the cloth aside to instead pick up the needle and thread. His knuckles double tapped your inner uninjured leg, motioning for you to spread them apart. You did and quietly sucked in a breath when he leaned closer to get a better look.
“You are a deadly shot.”
“Thanks,” you said, wincing when the needle first went in. “Though I prefer up close and personal.” His hand twitched slightly, tightening by a fraction. His focus was on stitching up the graze on the side of your leg but you were focused on his hand that held the inner part of your thigh. He moved his hand up as he worked, index finger nearly grazing the edge of your underwear. His closeness was awakening desire in you; you could feel your underwear getting more damp and just hoped he couldn’t smell your arousal. Part of you wanted him to move his hand to spare you from getting so worked up. But the other, much louder part of you wanted him to slide his hand up, hook two fingers into your panties, pull them aside and—
You closed your eyes, willing your face not to redden; you have men constantly touching you for a job, for God’s sake!
You weren’t so naive to think he was the same as all those other men, though. No, this one was different.
“Finished,” Ghost said, “make sure not to pull them.” You looked down at him and found his eyes already on yours.
You could see that he was likely wearing a neutral expression, but his eyes revealed a split second of heat before being schooled into indifference.
Not looking away, he gave your inner thigh a squeeze and let his hand travel down the inside of your leg, finally dropping when he reached your knee.
He stood up, and for a second, you could have swore you saw him glance in between your thighs.
Again, the two of you stared at each other, a tension building and building, one of you having to break first; he took a small step towards you and—
“Am I interrupting something?”
Soap walked into the living room, hair still wet from the shower. Of course, from his view, it was odd, seeing his fellow Sergeant in her underwear with his Lieutenant.
“No,” Ghost said, moving towards the hall. “We were just finished.”
You pulled your pants back on and went back to your room, replaying whatever the fuck just happened.
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