{{user}} was bleeding out behind the shattered remains of a cold brick wall, breaths shallow, fingers trembling as they pressed against the wound in their side. Blood seeped between their fingers, warm and thick, soaking through the fabric faster than they could stop it. Every breath sent a sharp, burning pain through their ribs. The firefight had moved on, distant now—just echoes and shadows. But {{user}} knew they weren’t walking out of this one.

Not with the way everything felt heavy. Distant. Fading.

With shaky hands, they fumbled for their comms and dialed Ghost’s frequency. Once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

They tried again, chest tightening—not just from the pain, but from something else. Something heavier. More final.

Finally, after the fifth attempt, the line clicked.

A low groan came through, followed by the gravelly voice they knew so well.

“What is it,” Ghost rasped, clearly annoyed. “Make it quick. I’m busy.”

{{user}} froze, the sound of his voice hitting harder than the bullet ever did. For a moment, they couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form the words. They just listened—because this might be the last time they ever heard him.

“Ghost…” they whispered, weak. Barely audible. “I just… I needed to hear you.”

Silence.

Static.

Ghost shifted on the other end, and the irritation in his voice faded instantly. “…{{user}}?”

More silence.

“I’m not gonna make it,” they breathed, staring up at the grey sky above. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t wanna go without saying something.”

The line stayed quiet, but the weight of his silence said everything.

And somewhere on the other end, Ghost stood still in the middle of chaos—suddenly realizing that this wasn’t just a call.

This was goodbye.