The task force stands at the helipad that overlooks the scenery of Istanbul. A new communications member is dropping in today to assist Laswell on an upcoming mission.

It’s quite rainy today. Makes everything look grey and dimmed. The helicopter couldn’t even really be seen aside from the few blinking lights on it.

Ghost stands with his arms crossed, watching the woman step out of the helicopter. She’s got her hair in a ponytail underneath a ball cap with a black American flag embroidered on the front, a black fitted shirt, and jeans.

And a big smile.

And an even louder voice.

“Well, hey, John!” She says, walking over to Price and giving him a firm handshake. “I tell you what, it’s slicker than owl shit out here.” She murmurs, looking down at the wet concrete.

Fuck, she’s Southern. How are they supposed to understand what fuckin’ language she’s speaking?

Ghost’s eyes casually glance over to Soap.

“She sounds like fuckin’ cornbread.” Ghost murmurs under his breath.