Chapter Text
26OCT23- CREDENHILL, ENGLAND
scattered mutterings of a wild, fanged beast echoed the halls intermittently throughout the barracks. private davenport claimed frantically to a crowd of skeptical, disbelieving, sarcastic fellow recruits that he had seen some type of lycanthrope flitting through the trees last sunday night, he swears, and walker insisted just as fervently that he had seen scratch marks on a tree unbefitting of any natural creature, and, sure, the slightly higher-ranking and more reputable booker clutched his chest absently with wide, glassy eyes as he recounted the tale of supernatural howling that bounced across the courtyard last night while on watch, but nobody truly believed any of that nonsense.
nobody had any reason to, of course. any such fantastical thing would have been swiftly and efficiently placed under the full scrutiny of the military’s watchful eye, and just as quickly swept under the rug, under lock and key and blacked-out paperwork, any dissenting voices suppressed like a bug crushed under a carefully polished boot.
but any such practicality and reason was firmly circumvented by the mere existence of ghost, shrouded in his own swirling miasma of red tape, redacted lines of text, and suffocating secrecy. the term need-to-know comes to mind in regards to the matter, and very few needed to know.
evidently, soap was one of the few that needed to know.
it didn’t fully surprise soap, not really- there was always something off about his lt.- when his captain finally decided to inform him of his lieutenant’s condition. of course, he felt overtaken by the simple and pure disbelief of the idea- werewolves, as outlandish and bizarre as the idea was, apparently existed, tangibly and firmly grounded in reality, and the hulking mass of a man sitting to soap’s direct right apparently was proof of such.
“you can’t be serious,” soap replied, and an eyebrow raised sceptically. “i thought we were here for a serious discussion, sir. if you’re done pulling my leg, i’d like to get on with the proper meaning of this meeting.”
price sighed. a low grumble, entirely inhuman and dangerous, sounded from ghost. soap shifted uncomfortably in his seat. he clasped then unclasped his hands, settling to cross his arms instead.
“i’m sure you’ve heard the rumours and stories.” price straightened an impressive stack of paperwork on his desk. his eyes were downcast, fixated on his task.
“i have. hard to avoid them.” recounted daily across the mess, whispered between men after-hours, hastily muttered in the steamy air of the showers.
price nodded sharply. “and I’m here to tell you they’re all true.”
ghost huffed a sigh. soap remained staring steadily at the paperwork.
“i’d fancy some proof of such,” soap replied with a sniffle. “you can hardly expect me to just… accept a claim like that.”
price nodded shortly to ghost. ghost nodded back, and stood gracefully, like a siren slipping through the ocean.
he cracked his neck and pulled off his gloves.
soap stared, wide-eyed and enraptured, as ghost’s body rapidly contorted and morphed.
the sound of cracking bones filled the room. price’s face remained impassive and neutral. johnny’s stomach churned at the sight of his lieutenant’s grotesque transformation. pitch-black fur sprouted rapidly from his bare skin, swiftly unearthed by his ripping clothes. fangs burst forth from beneath the now-shredded balaclava. he grew, and grew, and grew. as the transformation finally ceased, a pair of golden eyes peered inquisitively at johnny from a massive, intimidating, very fucking real wolf.
“um,” soap gasped faintly, and slunk further back into his chair. his hands gripped the armrests tightly, knuckles white with the effort.
“meet ghost,” price said calmly. he lit a cigarette and puffed at it absently. “you might’ve met your lieutenant riley, but this is ghost.” his fingers on his unoccupied hand drummed on his desk, nails faintly clicking against the surface.
johnny shrunk further into himself and scrambled backwards, the legs of his chair screeching against the tile floor.
ghost whined at the sound and growled lowly. johnny swiftly returned to statuesque stillness.
price tutted softly. “don’t be like that, soap. i know it’s a shock-“
“-it’s far more than a bloody shock, sir-“
“-but this is the reality.” price was eerily unbothered by johnny’s distress, almost flippantly casual in his tone. “i’d like you to act as ghost’s handler-“
“that’s rather dehumanising, if you think about it-“
“interrupt me one more time and I’ll feed you to him,” price barked, and johnny would have laughed at the threat if he weren’t so positively petrified.
price took his responding silence as acceptance and nodded. “good. you’ll be his handler, tasked with assisting him on missions in which his lycanthropy is necessary.”
“and what might that entail?” johnny’s leg bounced rapidly.
“containment, and direction, and supervision,” price said with a dismissive hand wave. “you’ll oversee him on missions and keep him in check, to put it simply.”
johnny nodded tersely. “ah. aye. and… why me?”
price cracked a devious smile, and ghost let out another rolling growl presumably in warning.
“because he likes you.” ghost huffed lightly and settled to lay down. price thumbed through the stack of paperwork before tossing it at johnny. he barely managed to catch it. “now, read up, son. you’ll need all the help you can get.”
johnny frowned and glanced at the paperwork. more lines were stricken out than not, but a few key words jumped off the page at him.
lycanthrope. extremely dangerous. high risk.
johnny swallowed thickly and spared ghost a glance. “and here i thought he was my superior, and you expect me to supervise him?”
price chuckled dryly. “don’t get it twisted. he’s still in charge at the end of the day. you’ll understand your place eventually.”