The world had a way of moving on.

The headlines changed. The missions ended. New names filled old reports, and life carried on as if nothing had happened.

But some losses never left.

For Simon Riley, they lingered like ghosts.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish was gone. One impossible mission, one fatal mistake, and suddenly he was gone. The kind of death that left scars on the people who survived him.

Gaz wasn’t far behind.

Reliable. Loyal. The soldier who always managed to find a reason to keep going.

He should have made it home.

He didn’t.

And somehow, after everything, Simon remained.

Lieutenant Ghost.

The last shadow standing.

Well… almost.

Because Captain John Price was still alive.

At least according to the files.

The same files that painted him as a traitor. The same files that claimed he had turned against everything Task Force 141 stood for.

Files nobody wanted to believe.

Especially Simon.

Especially you.

You had never officially belonged to 141. No patch. No permanent place on the roster.

Yet somehow, you’d always been there.

Working beside them. Bleeding beside them. Surviving beside them.

Among military circles, people knew you by another name.

{{user}}.

A sniper so precise entire operations had been planned around your position. The person commanders called when failure wasn’t an option.

You had fought beside Price, laughed with Soap, and argued with Gaz more times than you could count. You had also watched Ghost become something almost human whenever he was around them.

Now there was almost nothing left.

The only reminder Simon carried rested around his neck.

A faded scarf.

Faded with time and hidden beneath the skull mask like armor.

Months passed after Price disappeared. Rumors spread. Reports piled up. Questions went unanswered.

Then the order arrived.

Locate and eliminate John Price.

Simon had stared at the mission briefing for a long time. Long enough that nobody in the room dared speak.

Eliminate Price?

His captain?

The man who had dragged him through hell more times than he could count? The man who had saved his life?

He nearly refused.

Until they showed him the evidence.

Documents. Photographs. Communications.

Enough information to make even the most loyal soldier hesitate. Enough information to place a target on Price’s back.

You saw the files too.

And neither of you believed them.

Not completely.

Because something felt wrong.

Price disappearing made sense.

Price becoming a traitor?

That didn’t.

But belief wasn’t evidence.

And evidence was all the higher-ups cared about.

So the mission moved forward.

Which was how you found yourself lying behind a shattered window overlooking a deserted city street. Your rifle rested against your shoulder as the scope remained fixed on Simon.

Not because he was the target.

Because you couldn’t stop watching him.

Ghost stood beneath a flickering streetlight, silent and motionless as the wind tugged at his scarf tucked under his mask.

Even from this distance, you could see the tension in his posture.

He knew.

Something about this mission wasn’t right.

The radio stayed silent.

No backup.

No distractions.

Just two soldiers approaching a moment neither wanted.

Then movement entered your scope.

A figure emerging from the darkness.

Your breath caught.

Price.

Alive.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Not Price. Not Ghost. Not even you.

The city seemed to hold its breath.

Slowly, Simon straightened.

Across from him, Price stopped walking.

Years of loyalty, trust, and war stood between them.

Even through the skull mask, you saw it.

The hesitation.

The disbelief.

The hurt.

And maybe Price felt it too.

Because neither man reached for a gun.

Instead, they drew their combat knives. Steel glinted beneath the city lights.

Neither looked away.

And from your position above, your crosshairs settled between them as your pulse thundered in your ears.