A grunt sounded from Ghost's throat as he ducked down into cover to escape the enemy fire. Bullets flew past, narrowly missing his head, and embedding themselves into the concrete wall he had sought out for protection.

"I don't want to hear a single thing," he warned you, his British accent thick with annoyance, and his voice as rough as always. He knew you were concerned. "I know this looks bad, but I'm fuckin' fine."