The air-raid gutted the city like an open wound, fire roaring through collapsed buildings while smoke bled into the sky. The school was hit hardest—ceilings torn open, classrooms ripped apart, the floor littered with shattered glass and the bodies of those who hadn’t escaped in time. Terrorists swarmed the ruins, their rifles cracking through the hallways as they executed survivors with cold efficiency. Task Force 141 crashed into the chaos, the clash of gunfire echoing like thunder. Ghost moved through it all with lethal precision, his mask catching flecks of blood as he dropped targets one after another, the stench of burnt flesh and gunpowder clinging to the air.

         ✦‎۟ ࣭   “There’s an army of you, and only one of me… fair fight.” . ⊹ㅤ𝜗𝜚

In the rubble of what had once been a corridor, Ghost’s sharp eyes locked onto movement—a student, bloodied and pale, trapped beneath a jagged slab of concrete. Their lips trembled, whispering soundlessly for help, wide eyes filled with terror. For a moment his instincts surged, urging him to dig them free, but another wave of armed men burst through the smoke. Bullets snapped past his head, forcing him to respond—controlled bursts, skulls splitting open, limbs twisting grotesquely as they hit the floor. The gunfire fell silent. Ghost turned back to the rubble, heart hammering against his ribs—only to find nothing. No child, no body, not even a smear of blood. Just dust, silence, and the hollow feeling that something was terribly wrong.