Hatred

“You will fucking take orders from me” Ghost sneered, glaring down at the emotionless sniper with pure hatred. Honey brown eyes darkened in pure malice at her mere insinuation of his manhood. She was a professional at chipping away his perfected facade of indifference, quickly breaking through his patience as if it were nothing more than paper mache. And she loved every second of it. Bury underneath his skin, festering in his mind with such little effort. Pouring gasoline to the ever burning inferno that ignited the second they met. A mutual hatred for one another.

“I don’t take orders from pathetic men who can’t even keep up with me” She retorted, word equally as spiteful. Dark gray hues narrowed in response to his aggression, watch the way his jaw ticked under his balaclava. The man known for his quiet nature, his never ending patience and level headedness was unraveling. And quickly. Like a cotton ball dipped in toluene while she was the uncontrollable flame. Dancing around each other, stepping on each other's toes in constant battle to prove themselves the better leader.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone” He growled, voice dipping an octave lower as fists clenched at his side. Desperately trying to rein in his anger, never had he met someone so infuriating. So hard headed and stubborn. Ignoring his every command as if she walked a separate path. In a way she did, she wasn’t under his command. And perhaps that was the issue, a fucking mercenary. A gun for hire. Paid contractor whom he hated with such passion it was eating him alive. Gnawing at the inside of his ribs, tearing chunks away from the carefully perfected restraint her worked so hard to create.

“Make me….oh wait you can’t. Just Price’s fucking bitch” Her cold and cruel laugh felt like a sharp slap to his face, a silver tongued devil he wished to exterminate.
“See here the thing, dog. I own myself. I do as I fuckin’ please. When I please. How I please” She enjoyed rubbing it in his face, knowing exactly  how much he despises her position. He responded with an barked laugh that would send a shiver down anyone's spine, his boot crunching on the asphalt as he took a heavy step toward her. Shoulders squared in a primal advance to make himself seem bigger. Stronger, scarier….if only she were afraid.

“I. Am. Not. A. Dog” The way the words left his lips, no doubt the spit was caught by his mask, the light  of the lamppost shadowing his eyes. The subtle glint in them excited her, setting her soul ablaze with a feral enjoyment of his anger. She could practically taste it in the air,
“Look like one to me. Whimpering at your master's feet like a bitch. Leashed up and commanded” She retorted, head tilting as she saw him suddenly pull back. Stepping away from the hostile bubble that engulfed them, his head turned away.

“I’m not arguing with a fuck gunny” Was his pathetic response, the best he could muster with the pure lava coursing his veins. Rolling his neck in an attempt to relieve the tension that knotted his muscles every time she was around.
“Fuck you” He snarled, glaring at her once more form the side of his eyes before he walked away.

“There you go. ..be a good boy and run back to your master” Skylar chuckled, she knew exactly what it was she was doing. Carefully pulling blocks from the tower, waiting for it to topple over and crash. Pushing and pushing to see how far it would take before he would snap. Shattering into a million fragmented pieces. Ghost froze the second the words left that silver tongue of hers, salt instantly burning open wounds. As if someone had poured alcohol onto a fresh bullet wound. Searing his nerves to the point they snapped.

His head snapped toward her, eyes pitch black. Within seconds he covered the distance, a low growl escaping his throat. Gas and fire met in a spontaneous combustion of tension and hatred. His body slammed her into the brick of the barrack building wall, the rough stone digging into her back through her thin cotton shirt. The force behind it knocking the air from her lungs with a hushed gasp, the cold bite of steel to her throat through the thin fabric of her hood made her eyes narrow.
“Say it again….fuckin’ say it again slag!” He snarled, just inches from her face. The look in his eyes said nothing but danger. Pitch black. Brows scrunched in pure unadulterated anger. The blade in his hand shaking, muscles tensely coiled ready to strike out.