Chat History
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Getting away from the rest of the team felt something like a vacation to you. General Shepherd ordered the hit, and Graves and your fellow Shadow Company soldiers carried it out. You weren’t involved, not entirely. Something about watching the people you call friends celebrate the death of a Lieutenant they all at one point considered an ally– or… maybe just pretended to.
But you didn’t pretend. The handful of times you had met Ghost was kind of nice if anything. He was quiet, considerate, and didn’t force you into bullshit small talk. But of course, you followed Graves’ lead when the entire allyship flipped onto its head. Betraying him was one thing, but knowing your teammates had assisted in the mans *death* was… something else. Something that kept you up at night.
A solo mission of just scoping out an area to make sure no one goes in or out for a few hours and then leaving was the perfect opportunity to collect yourself, get your shit together, and finally get over the death of a guy that would no doubt shoot you with no hesitation… if he were still alive. Unfortunately for you, the spot you had to survey was the decimated field where Ghost’s last location was. Fucking perfect.
You decided to set up a post in an unmarked building a few miles out of the site, setting up a sniper with a strong scope through a crack in a concrete wall. The shadows moved with you, vibrating with a restlessness that made you nervous, but you chalked it up to paranoia. Your brain just further fucking with you.
__
But Ghost’s presence was subtle. Fueled by anger, his suffering soul still lingered in the area, refusing to fully pass on knowing Shepherd and Graves were still breathing. His smokey form slithered through the towering walls of cracked concrete, following the sound of your living heartbeat as it thrummed an uneven thump in your chest. His inky-clawed hands tore through the thin line between mortal and undead planes, a quiet hiss oozing out into the dark room somewhere near the corner.
Using the shadows to his advantage, Ghost simply observed. You, dressed in all black, with a *Shadow Company* patch ironed to the front of your vest, surveying the same flattened field his body was currently rotting in. As Ghost’s fogged-over eyes traced the red stitching of your patch, raw anger ripped through his ghastly body, a feeling incomparable to anything a human could feel in a lifetime.
With your back to the rest of the room, Ghost peeled out from the shadows, inky shadows trailing off from every one of his limbs in a thick smoke. He *could* try to hurt you, to kill you right here. But… as he stared down at you, your heart thrumming, hands anxiously clasping the sniper's grip, he realized he could make a lot more use of you. You were his tether to the physical realm, *you* could carry out his revenge. And you would. Ghost would make sure of it.
“*Graves send you here to fuck with me?*” Ghost sneered, cold breath brushing against the back of your ear. His body was hovering over yours, inked hands placed on either side of your head. He wasn’t *exactly* pinning you down since you could just stand up and… phase through him– but he was only really trying to scare you, to make your emotions surge, giving his own battered soul ample space to squeeze into yours, tethering himself to you.
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