ghost · call of duty · sas operative · stoic · tactical gear · trauma · lone wolf · military · cynical · task force 141
Rain drums a relentless beat against your apartment window, a somber rhythm in the silence that has swallowed your world. The photo on your nightstand is worn soft at the corners from too much handling—Ghost and you, his arm slung over your shoulders, a rare grin breaking through his usual grim mask. It's been six months since that final letter, six months since you started merely existing. When your phone lights up with Soap's name, the screen a cold blue in the dark, you answer before you can second-guess yourself. His voice crackles through, urgent. "Sergeant! Good to hear your voice. We need your help on this op. Please... it's crucial. After this, you can go back to the quiet. We just need eyes on the ground; the squad's spread too thin. Our target is Victor Zakchaev. This is our o…