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sparki3 · 4 months

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Hey yall, so I love to write stories and stuff in my spare time, but I don't like to share cause I hate the idea of people reading my works. But today I decided to get over that and post a little story.

I love the cod games and community and i loved the series Grisellda so I thought why not put the two together? It's an oc x mw era but I might change it to a reader? Who knows first I gotta upload this lol. Uh anyways here's the prolouge, a little taste if you will, I hope you enjoy and criticism is appreciated but hate isn't... thanks!

CHAPTER 1:

El Serpiente

How was this name bestowed on me? To be completely honest I don’t even remember… maybe it was because I strangled my own father to death and took over his business… or maybe it’s because people think I’m cold blooded… either way it doesn’t really matter…

All that matters is that El Serpiente runs the streets of Las Almas now. El Serpiente strikes fear into people more than El Sin Nombre ever did.

Sure, ruling over the small town of Oro was fun and games, but it was pathetic compared to the City of Souls.

Ever since my partner in the drug syndicate, Valeria, got her ass thrown in prison and allowed those Shadow Company fucks to murder half of Las Almas, I was asked to step in.

And let me tell you, business has been booming! No one important enough knows I took over. No one to get in my way.

I helped Valeria escape prison, now she owes me a favour. I hold it over her all the damn time, can she kill me? Sure, but she knows I’m too much of an asset to get rid of.

Currently I’m sitting in her old head office smoking on a cigarette, allowing the tobacco filled product to ease my nerves… I glance to the city, my city. The thought allows a grin to spread on my face, I chuckle lowly before glancing to my laptop as it displays the news of Vladimir Makarov escaping.

Exhaling the smoke, my grin softens into a smirk as I pull out a notebook writing all the ways to smuggle more drugs into America… like Valeria once greatly said, “If there’s a war on terrorism there will be no real war on drugs,”. Sure, it’s considered fucked up to use terrorist attacks as a form to make more money but hey, my morals were thrown out the window a long time ago.

I inhale the last bit of smoke before putting out the cigarette, closing my laptop in the process. My gaze flicks to all over my new office, I sigh with satisfaction before my gaze settles on my phone. I pick it up, scrolling through messages from my employees, I shake my head standing up grabbing my coat and wrapping it around my body.

I walk out my office looking to my bodyguards, I nod to them. “Eres libre de irte chicos,”

In response the two nod saluting me and walking towards their lockers. I sigh, as much as I enjoy their loyalty, my employees do it strictly out of fear that I might kill them or their loved ones… I mean sure it’s true, but they must at least act like they enjoy working for me…

I head downstairs seeing my driver sitting in the lobby. Roberto always was by my side, even after I killed my father, he insisted on staying. His reasoning was that he worked for our family for longer than he could count, and honestly, I’m glad he’s stayed… I like to think of him as my adviser rather than a driver.

I cleared my throat, and he glances up smiling at the sight of me, “Ready Señora Serpiente?” I scowl playfully at him before nodding. “You know I prefer just Serpiente… it doesn’t give away much about me. In fact, it makes people think I’m an actual snake which makes my life a helluva lot easier.”

Roberto simply laughs, his smile lines deepening reminding me of how old he truly is, “Ay you can never beat the gentleman out of me,” I scoff as he guides me to the Volkswagen Polo, I insisted on getting since it raises less of a suspicion then a Black Sudan or a Limo.

“What kind of gentleman works for a cartel?” I ask as he opens the back door for me, I nod and get in.

“Well, me apparently.” He smiles softly slipping into the driver’s seat, I chuckle softly. The car ignites to life, and I sit back and relax a bit. I stare out the window as we drive the streets of Las Almas, my eyes scan over some streets and graffiti artworks. I look back to Roberto, I frown as I notice his hair is greyer than I remember, and his eyes look sunken in.

I turn my attention back to outside… I can’t risk getting worried over an employee… could be easily used against me. My brows furrow as I think about all the times I fucked up and allowed someone to get close to me only for them to just die. Innocent lives being taken always left a bad taste in my mouth, its why I don’t kill someone unless they really deserve it. I swallow some saliva desperate for another cigarette…

To take my mind off the craving I dig into my coat pocket pulling out my phone and looking at the new message from Valeria.

Encuéntrame ahora.

I frown… why on Earth does she want to meet up at this hour?

“Roberto... change of course, we’re heading to Valeria’s safe house.

He simply nods before making a turn, I sit up straight touching my holster making sure my gun is still there, I pull it out checking the bullets and chamber, once satisfied I put the safety on before tucking it back in its holster.

After a few minutes we pull up to a dodgy street, I leave the car nodding to Roberto, “Beunas noches Roberto,” with that he leaves and I walk to the door of a small building, pounding on the door twice then a pause and then another knock… time to see what’s up with my city.

#cod modern warfare #modern warfare #phillip graves #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #valeria garza #oc #vladimir makarov

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dex-xe · 3 years

Note

Regarding the ficlet ideas :)

You don't have to do all or even any of these, these are just the things that popped into my head when I was scrolling through! Also if you want to write them romantically you do it, we love and support youuu!!!

Fluff: 7 (Mary and Robin, probably platonic) & 10 (Mary and Kitty, also probably platonic)

General: 18 (Julian and literally anyone, it'll be hilarious)

And General 45. With Alison and Cap (and maybe all the other ghosts) becuase I feel you'd write it really sweetly and honestly it's a scene I'd really like to see

Alison & Captain General #45: “Are you afraid to die?”

So there’s still one more prompt from this person (the Julian one) but I’m combining it with other ideas so expect that soon!! The others have also been done here:

Fluff #7

Fluff #10

But yeah,, this got no interaction at all on AO3 but that’s okay cause I actually really enjoyed writing this one there are some good lines I think. Let me know what you think either here on on AO3 I don’t mind. (Also there is a Doctor Who reference in here but I can’t remember which episode it’s from so if yall find it let me know XD)

TW:// in depth discussions of death.

The dark ceiling of Alison’s bedroom swirled in front of her as she listened to the soft rumbling of her husband’s snores beside her. The glowing red lights of her alarm clock served as a warning to her impending sleepless night: 2:15am.

Worries of life and family and the hotel and the unusual presence of 20 odd dead people inhabiting her home raced through her head as she begged for some kind of distraction from her thoughts. She tried not to set too many rules for the ghosts: whenever she did, they would work even harder to break every written order she laid down - and also every unwritten rule that common sense laid down. But one rule Alison was strict on was their nighttime curfew: do what you want around the house (as long as it doesn’t make too much noise, mess or irritance) but do not, under any circumstance, enter the master bedroom.

She’d originally given them the usual “only in emergencies” protocol but, after Robin had scared Alison out of bed at 4am having deemed a fat ginger cat on the front lawn an emergency, this had quickly been scrapped. But watching the dust flow through beams of moonlight while contemplating every life decision she’d ever made, the prospect of some inconceivable disaster interrupting the ghosts’ eternal deaths was seeming ever more pleasurable.

Alison sighed and sat up to look over Mike deep in sleep, jealous of his peaceful snoring. She swung off the bed being careful not to jostle the sheets but flinched at the freezing floorboards touching her bare feet. She tiptoed slowly through the empty corridors occasionally stopping to listen at the doors of the ghosts’ bedrooms: quiet snoring from Pat’s, mumbled sleep talking from Kitty’s, total silence on behalf of the others.

Every common room lay vacant, excluding Robin curled up in front of the dying fire, so Alison continued on to the kitchen - taking Nigel’s advice to fetch some milk when she’s stressed.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was taken aback to find it was not as empty as the rest of the house would suggest. Leaning back against the far tiled wall with his eyes shut and head resting back on the cold surface, the Captain looked as if he could be asleep standing upright. His eyes snapped open and settled straight on Alison frozen in the doorway. He blinked slowly before darting towards the corner of the room in his usual long-legged, gangly run.

“Captain?” Alison called as he turned away from her. “No, no! It’s alright!”

The Captain stopped. Still. Silent. In a moment of alarming quietness.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Captain. I’ll only be a moment!” Alison said quietly, making her way over to the fridge. “God, I hope Robin isn’t in here.” She pulled open the door with great gusto, fleetingly thrilled by the presence of broccoli, strawberry yoghurt, and half a pasta bake rather than the shouting menace of a caveman.

She shut the door with the milk carton in hand and turned to find the Captain still facing the wall, breathing heavily in what appeared to be a WW2 remake of the Blair Witch Project.

“You can just go back to… whatever you were doing, now,” Alison took a swig from the carton. “Plotting your latest hair-brained scheme to get rid of me?”

“Now, now, Alison,” the Captain said, turning back around to face her and swaying ever so slightly on his heels, stick gripped tight behind him. “I’m less inclined to dispose of you nowadays.”

“Yeah?” Alison raised her eyebrows with a knowing glance and took another sip. “Well, I appreciate that, Cap.”

“Hmm,” the Captain agreed.

“Why are you awake then? Are you awake or do ghosts sleep upright against a wall? Is this some mechanic I don’t know about? Do ghosts have to sleep?” Alison asked rapid fire.

“Of course we sleep! What did you think we do during the night?” The Captain pointed to Alison’s milk and frowned. “You shouldn’t drink it like that. That’s how disease spreads.

“It’s only me that uses it, just don’t tell Fanny, yeah?”

“Mum’s the word,” he murmured.

Alison smiled. “So why are you up, then? Shouldn’t you be getting that beauty sleep?”

“Sometimes it’s a little difficult to drift off, I’m sure you understand that being awake at this hour too.”

“Oh yeah,” Alison said quietly. She lifted her carton up in a small gesture of cheers and made a move to leave. “Well, got my milk. I guess… I’ll just head back to bed then. Good night, Captain.” She had barely made it out of the door before the Captain spoke up once more.

“You could stay for a while,” the Captain said. “If you wanted to. I mean, if you didn’t want to just lay in bed gazing at the ceiling.”

“I’d like that,” Alison pulled out the chair closest, scraping the legs across the tiled floor and interrupting the silence of the house. She left the chair open for the Captain and moved to sit opposite him, settling into the quiet comfort.

“Isn’t it weird to think the dead sleep?” Alison commented. “Doesn’t seem right, does it? Cause sleeping is a bit like being dead only without the commitment so it’s like you’re kind of double dead.”

“Death is nothing like sleeping, Alison. Don’t talk to me about death if you don’t understand it.” The Captain sniffed at her and leant back in his chair maintaining his usual stoic exterior.

“Sorry,” Alison said. “I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said quickly. The pair fell back into silence, they had never exactly been the closest of friends and Alison certainly wouldn’t describe him as her best (undead) friend but they were friend-ly, for sure. Certainly more now that he’d ceased trying to drive her from the house at every opportunity that presented itself. Then again, death does strange things to people, Alison thought, her friends had proved that much. They showed little regard for the lives of the living, thinking very much of themselves and the Captain was surely the embodiment of that.

“It’s not awful, as such,” the Captain interrupted the quiet. Alison looked up from the table to find him watching her intently. “Death. It’s not as terrible as you might think. I know that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Oh,” Alison said. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” The Captain said. “You’re in a rather unique position, Alison, I must say. Not many people can say they have a good understanding of death before it happens, but you know more than most.”

“I still don’t really get it, though,” Alison admitted drawing lines across the table with her fingers.

“If I’m telling the truth, neither do I,” the Captain confessed. “I don’t remember it too well. It was like- like falling asleep and then immediately waking up again. You know that plummeting feeling that happens right as you’re about to drop into sleep, like everything is calm and then suddenly you’re losing grip of reality, and then you’re wide awake again.”

“A hypnic jerk,” Alison quipped.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“That’s what it’s called, that falling thing. A hypnic jerk.” Alison said. “We did it in science class, I think. Your body thinks it’s dying so it does the jerk to make sure that you’re still alive. Makes sense that’s what dying feels like, I guess.”

“Are you afraid to die, Alison?” The question took Alison by surprise, it was unlike the Captain to be open about his emotions and even more unlikely for him to ask about others’ feelings.

“If I have to stay with this rowdy lot for eternity, then yes definitely,” Alison joked with a small laugh.

The Captain smiled and hummed in agreement: “Oh I’m sure I’d have agreed if given the choice before death. Not exactly the most peaceful post-death existence.”

“I’m a little bit scared,” Alison admitted.

“You shouldn’t be too worried, it’s not all that bad,” the Captain said with a shrug.

“Yeah, because you seem to be having a blast with your afterlife, Cap. Happy as Larry,” Alison said sarcastically, she threw the now-empty carton into the bin beside her and settled back towards the table, leaning forward closer to the Captain - their faces barely inches apart.

The Captain paused, his eyes boring into Alison’s sleepy face before he leant forward to match her and whisper in secret confidence.

“It is rather bad,” he reneged. “You should fear it, well done for being scared.” Alison chuckled. “Well thanks, Cap! I feel so much better now!”

“Now, you know that’s not what I mean,” the Captain said slowly, unsure of where he was going next. “As long as you die here, you have no reason to be afraid. We’ll care for you in death as you have for us in life. Be sure, Alison, we’ll teach you all we know.”

“You know, Julian has told me the ‘teachings’ you gave him when he died,” Alison chuckled.

“Somebody needed to give that scoundrel a good telling off; heaven knows no one in life ever did. Julian died much as he lived: with an air of superiority.” The Captain coughed and smirked across at Alison. “He waltzed in here as if he owned the place, demanding authority and respect and, as far as I’m concerned, those are qualities that are earned.”

“Like you?” Alison said pointedly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you earn the authority you have over the others?”

“That is beyond the point.” The Captain stated. “You’re rather lucky, Alison! You’ve met a somewhat tempered version of Julian, he’s actually rather bearable these days, likeable sometimes, you wouldn’t believe him in the early days.”

“Oh I can only imagine! And I’m better then, I assume? Seeing as I’m deemed worthy of your afterlife teachings?” Alison laughed.

“Indeed,” the Captain said.

“Were you afraid?” Alison asked. “Of death, I mean? Obviously like, before it happened.”

“No,” the Captain shrugged, finally heeling away from Alison and breaking their close eye contact. “A soldier is never afraid. When you enlist to serve for your country, you relinquish any right to fear your death. Service kills many who enter, you cannot fear the inevitable.”

“But you didn’t die in service?”

“I was a soldier. No matter if my demise happened during the war or 60 years later, I lived a soldier and I died a soldier.” The Captain said certainly. Whenever he spoke of his time in the military he straightened right up and masked any kind of emotion he had allowed to trickle through.

“Now that you’re not a soldier then, are you afraid of… you know, moving on?”

“Of being sucked off?” The Captain clarified.

“I refuse to say that,” Alison shook her head. “And frankly it’s cruel that Julian has kept this joke up. But are you scared?”

“I am still a soldier, Alison. I’ll always be a soldier.”

“Time has moved on, no more fighting and no more soldiers but you know that, Captain.”

“Doesn’t change anything. Time.” The Captain said, matter of fact. The darkness of the kitchen mostly shrouded his face but Alison could easily make out the outline of his sharp features and piercing eyes.

“Time changes everything.” She stated. “You should know that better than most.”

“I’m a soldier.” He repeated, mumbling it under his breath like a reassuring mantra. “For King and country.”

“Queen.” Alison corrected.

Allowing himself, for just a moment, to relinquish his solid, iron-clad grip on the past, the Captain softly whispered: “For Queen and country.”

#bbc ghosts #ficbymax

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