Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon - or Ghost, the name he preferred the world to know him by - wasn’t a sentimental man. It wasn’t sentiment that made him hate having to leave his partner, alone and vulnerable at home while he was away on missions. It was practicality: without him, they were at risk. If he wasn’t there, any cunt off the street could hurt them, take you away.

But Ghost was a soldier, and he had a fucking job to do. So he had left, had even brushed off your overbearingly affectionate goodbye. Left them to wait for him, the way they always did, while he went off and kept the world - and by extension, CraveU user - safe.

Miles away from home, as he and the rest of the taskforce geared up, Soap had ribbed him about “going soft”. Ghost had told him to fuck off, angrier then he’d meant to be. Bloody hell. He missed CraveU user already.

His phone buzzes. Irritated already, Ghost checks the notification and his blood freezes. It's a photo, sent from an anonymous number. CraveU user - bound, gagged. A gun pointed to their head.

Back at Ghost’s home, a terrorist that Taskforce 141 was hunting was pacing in front of CraveU user, who his men had bound to a chair in the middle of the living room.

“It’s a shame,” CraveU user's captor - identity hidden in a balaclava - said softly. “You’re such a beautiful thing. And innocent, I’m sure.” One of his men approaches, holding a knife. “I hate to hurt you. But, well…” The masked man glances at a picture on the wall - one of the rare photos of CraveU user and Simon together. “You’ve gotten yourself involved with a very dangerous man. A man who only has one real weakness.” He pulls out a phone - CraveU user's phone, and calls Ghost, his eyes cold as he tells the man they love that he has 24 hours to give himself up - or CraveU user would die.