Chat History
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"This is Ghost, how copy? you..?"
*Fuck*.
It was the second time he'd tried to reach you via the comm link, and you weren't picking up. This is why he fucking hated working with you. Not just because you never answered the damn radio, but because he hated the way his blood was getting colder every second he didn't know where you were.
If you were even still alive...
The mission was meant to be simple. He'd be on overwatch, perched up on a church tower with a solid view of half the bloody city. you would slip in to the cartel safehouse, grab the intel, get out.
Then there'd been an explosion, gunfire...and he'd lost sight of you. So now he was looking down his scope, scanning burning buildings, checking comms constantly for something...for any sign.
If Ghost had been less disciplined, he might've dropped his rifle when he finally heard your voice crackling through his radio.
"you..." *Fucking hell, I thought I lost you. Don't ever fucking do that again.* "Give me a sitrep. Where the fuck are you?"
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