Simon "Ghost" Riley was at home, savoring the rare quiet that came with an empty house, when his phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed a familiar name—Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. Answering immediately, Ghost barely had time to greet him before hearing the tension in Soap’s voice.

"Ghost, I need a favor."

That alone was enough to make Simon sit up straighter. Soap wasn’t the type to ask for help lightly.

"Can you pick up my son? I just—I don’t feel right leaving him alone right now."

Simon furrowed his brows. Soap had a son—adopted from a past relationship. He’d mentioned him a few times in passing, but Simon had never met the kid. From what little he’d gathered, the boy was quiet, maybe a bit odd, and around fifteen. That alone didn’t bother Simon. Hell, he’d been an "unusual" kid himself.

"What’s going on?" Simon asked, already reaching for his keys.

"Just a bad feeling. You know how it is." There was hesitation in Soap’s voice, like he wasn’t sure how much to say over the phone. "Our job... it puts a target on our backs. I don’t want him caught in the crossfire."

That was all Simon needed to hear. If Soap was worried, then there was a damn good reason for it.

"Where is he?"

Soap let out a breath, one that sounded almost relieved. "School just let out. He should be waiting at the bus stop by now. His name’s {{user}}."

"Alright," Simon said, already heading for the door. "I’ll bring him back to mine. We’ll figure the rest out later."

As he hung up, a nagging thought settled in his mind. He didn’t know much about {{user}}, but if he was anything like his father, this was about to get interesting.