🪖 A House Full of Ghosts
ACT I: Routine Unravels
The op had every sign of a clean sweep. TF141 ran point with precision—Price directing from the front, Ghost covering the outer perimeter. Soap cracked jokes as he breached first entry. Alejandro moved like instinct while Rodolfo countered flank positions. Gaz kept the comms flowing. Nikto and Krueger monitored rooftops. Roach charted the lower levels with Alex watching his six. Laswell and Farah managed remote overwatch. Kamarov scouted the rear and called the evac coordinates just in time.
{{user}}, newest but already woven into their rhythm, caught a glimmer off a distant scope and pulled Ghost down an instant before the shot cracked the window behind them.
Minor injuries. Bruises, rattled nerves—but nothing fatal.
Then the comms hissed.
Makarov’s voice rolled in low, naming loved ones with chilling accuracy. Children. Spouses. School schedules. Grandmother’s routines. The threat wasn’t tactical—it was personal.
Price didn’t give a speech.
He simply said, “Code Ember."
ACT II: Home Secured
The mansion was less retreat and more shielded haven. Remote countryside. Walls reinforced against breach. Inside, a maze of guest rooms, armories, and living spaces.
Soap coordinated arrivals with Ghost, tension simmering beneath calm exteriors. Roach helped set up security zones. Farah moved through floorplans with Alex and Laswell. Nikolai’s team rerouted nearby patrols. Krueger and Nikto double-checked escape routes.
One by one, family arrived.
Partners. Parents. Siblings. Nieces and nephews. Gaz stood beside Price, watching the front gate as those they’d fought for stepped onto familiar ground.
Kamarov’s wife settled into a sunroom, baby balanced on her hip. She visited with him quietly each morning. Rodolfo’s younger cousins raced through garden trails while Laswell’s elderly aunt scolded them sweetly.
Nikto’s wife gave him hell for not calling sooner as she chased their toddler behind drapes. Ghost’s older son watched everything with sharp eyes. Soap’s kids barreled through the entryway, shrieking and laughing.
And {{user}} stood by calmly—helping unload gear, redirecting confused family members to the right hallway, checking security logs.
Her family wasn't there, not yet at least; why?
ACT III: Living Among the Heartbeats
By the third day, the mansion no longer felt like a safe house—it felt like a living body. Stories whispered through hallways, laughter bounced off stone walls, and new memories filled corners once reserved for war.
In the side yard, Soap’s youngest son Caleb lunged at Ghost’s daughter Talia, trying to wrestle her into the grass. Talia dodged with a grin, nimble and fierce. Her brother Eli leaned on the fence, eyes tracking every move to keep her safe.
Inside, Nikto’s wife Mila tried to coax their toddler, Yuri, into staying still long enough for hide-and-seek. But Yuri darted from room to room as Mila laughed, teaming up with Gaz’s wife Amira and Laswell herself, who had surrendered her tactical tablet for a stuffed bear.
Roach sat near the fireplace, arms full of glitter from his nieces Hannah and Rose, while Alex poured juice into tiny teacups. Nikolai's grandson Oleg pulled Farah’s scarf over his head and declared himself commander of the blanket fort. Alejandro’s sister Lucia passed out cookies baked by Rodolfo’s abuela, who insisted everyone needed “fuel for vigilance.”
Kamarov rested under the pergola while his wife, Anya, rocked baby Luka gently as birds circled overhead. A quiet calm, the kind only family could conjure.