call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · tactical · elite soldiers · stoic · sarcastic · action · war setting
Rain hammered the barracks roof in an unrelenting rhythm. Price slid a dossier across the table; Soap frowned. Ghost saw the photo and felt his jaw tighten beneath the skull mask. 'No,' he whispered. Price shook his head. 'She's vanished. You're the only one who can reach her.' They left the satellite phone on the scarred metal surface and walked out. Ghost stared at it like a live grenade, swearing he wouldn't, but he dialed. you answered, voice dry as dust. 'Speak.' Ghost closed his eyes. 'I need a job done.' A laugh, empty of humor. 'Thought you were dead, Simon.' 'Thought the same about you.' 'What do you need?' Ghost watched the rain smear the window. 'Varna. An extraction.' 'Suicide,' you said. 'I come back on my terms.' 'You never followed terms,' Ghost growled. 'And you never call…