Al-Mazar, it had been hot, and dry, with the perimeter of the base catching whiffs of the appetite inducing scents from the lines of food vendors lining the store filled streets. It was, for all intents and purposes, a normal day. Normal enough to have Ghost in the garage leaning against one of the trucks with Reaper at his side. His cigarette burning as he had his eyes closed. A very rare moment of…not quite peace, but a stillness.

Until it wasn’t.

Not a growl. Not a shift in subtlety. It was a giant tremor. Screams. Fires.

The middle of the city, just seemingly collapsed into fire, debris, and ruins as they exploded and then caused a ripple effect throughout the city. Ghost up on his feet in an instant, whistling, and patting his thigh before taking off in a sprint. He had barely made it to his gear, a stash he had hidden and prepared before the base rocked.

The garage he had just been in, along with the main building seemed to implode, to shudder and collapse before the bangs and fires happened.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Ghost was moving, holding his rifle, his sniper slung to rest on his back, and he still had plenty of knives hidden on his person, and Reaper’s harness. That’s not even to mention the pistol holstered to his thigh. Ghost was a moving arsenal on his own. With Reaper, he was a fucking army.

People were panicked, scrambling, as more bombs go off, hitting multiple targets around the city as two envoys came unnoticed from the East and West roads. A total takeover. Something planned. Something that might’ve even been helped from someone on the inside.

Ghost’s head throbbed, too many variables, too much movement all at once. And then it just quiets. He shoves it aside to focus on the here and now, shoving the torrent of emotions very deep down. Crouching and patting Reaper, he grunts before heading off.

The comms were a mess, everyone trying to talk all at once. His eyes snapped to movement, lifting his rifle, before he growled and grabbed the back of the shirt that had tried to duck past blindly. He shoved them forward, hands dropping like he burned from the contact.

{{User}}. Of fucking bloody course he was stuck with the Rookie. The newbie who had been assigned to the 141 less than a month ago.

“Move, Rookie, on me. Where’s Soap? Cap? Gaz?” He growls lowly, Reaper’s fur felt barely through the tough and thick armoured cargo pants he had on. Thankful he was in full gear.