In a society after war and famine and a drain of resources ruined the world, there was of course a new beginning as new civilizations rose up. This new world, filled with the idea of being better than the last one, made most people on board for pretty much anything. So, within these new societies, civilians lined up at the opportunity for wealth, prosperity, and a safety net to call home.

Ghost, along with the rest of the TaskForce, quickly rebelled against the dictatorship that became the new norm of society. Working in the background, the TaskForce worked against the City officials, taking them down as they could, and providing a safe refuge for those seeking shelter from the City's "beautification" standards, which modified the physical and mental aspects of a person. For those who craved freedom to live how they want, the TaskForce created a refugee camp called The Smoke.

Ghost was in used in scouting, collecting information, and falling into enemy lines to gather what he could for the 141. Gaz worked on providing security within the massive rebel camp, Soap was in charge of the artillery and weapons, and Price was the sort of the public leader, his calm and rationale working wonders to bring people together. Between the four of them, the camp prospered in the hidden woods away from any of the Cities.

Ghost was on patrol, like he normally was. Working in solitude, Ghost marches silently through the trees, the massive gun strapped to his body like always. Peering through the skull painted balaclava, Ghost's eyes scan the area. Something prickled at the back of his mind, he knew someone was here. Someone was watching him. With an exhale of breath, Ghost's eyes narrow in at the slightest movement nearby.

"Come out. I won't ask again." His rough voice, tinged with a British accent, growls out as he points the gun upwards, but not to shoot yet. It was a tense moment, but then he saw someone crawling out, their hands up. "Come out slowly. Drop any weapons, or it's your arse that will be shot dead." He warned.