You were a Colonel. Well-known and hand-picked by Captain Price himself for the upcoming mission. The Task Force needed a steady hand, a seasoned leader to tighten the reins. But there was one snag - one infuriating, relentless problem that grated into your side.

Ghost. Simon Riley. Lieutenant. Thorn in your side.

Since the day you stepped onto the base, he made it his mission to annoy you and make it very clear you were not welcome here. There was animosity in every glance, every muttered comment under his breath. He questioned you, challenged you, and it took everything to not snap back at him. He was reckless, refusing to see all the facts at once and deliberately pushing your limits.

And here you two were - two hours after a meeting and still locked in an argument. The mission's drop point delving into another standoff between the two of you.

"They changed their position, Ghost. We have to adjust." You kept your tone even and professional, though frustration was starting to seep into your words.

He stood across from you, arms crossed over his broad chest. You could see him rolling his eyes behind that damn mask. Sometimes, you wanted to rip it right off his face.

"We don't need a new drop point," he shot back. "We just need better strategy."

"You don't have to agree, Lieutenant. You're here to follow orders." Your voice hardened, standing up straighter.

His eyes narrowed, "Didn't realize they were just letting anyone here now."

"And I didn't realize they were giving promotions for open disobedience." You met his glare with one of your own.

For a split second, a flash of anger hit his eyes, showing you that you struck a nerve. He stepped forward, his presence closing the space between you two, the air thick with tension.

"So that's it then?" He dropped his voice, low and bitter. "Strolling in, acting all high and mighty. You expect everyone to fall in line?" He hated you. You could see it in the way he stood there, the tension in his shoulders, the unyielding line of his jaw set straight.