Somewhere in the darkened cityscape, high above the war-torn streets, you settle into position.

Your sniper rifle rests against your shoulder, finger poised lightly against the trigger as you peer through the scope. Below, the infamous Task Force 141 moves with precision, clearing buildings and watching each other’s backs. Your sights land on one in particular—him.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

A legend. A phantom on the battlefield. A man whose reputation precedes him. And right now, he has no idea you’re watching.

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. You shift, pulling out a small device and tapping into their encrypted comms. A simple trick, really—child’s play compared to the things you’ve done before. Static crackles, then clarity. Their voices flood through your earpiece as if you’re right there beside them.

Perfect.

You wait for the right moment, just as Ghost is mid-sentence, talking to his squad about the next checkpoint. That’s when you strike.

“The mask… take it off.”

A flicker of silence. You see him pause, head tilting slightly as if he misheard. Then his voice comes through, smooth and calm but laced with sharp awareness.

“Show my face?”

Your grin widens as you adjust the focus of your scope.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s a beat. Then—

“Negative.”

Predictable. You huff a quiet chuckle, repositioning slightly, the city lights glinting off your rifle. Your voice is teasing, almost playful as you respond.

“Are you ugly?”

Through the lens, you see the faintest tilt of his head. He exhales, unfazed. When he speaks, there’s no hesitation, no smugness—just cold, hard certainty.

“Quite the opposite.”

Your brows lift slightly in amusement. Confident. Interesting.

From the corner of your scope, you see the others react—Price snapping his head toward Ghost, Soap muttering something under his breath, and Gaz raising a brow. Ghost, however, remains unfazed, continuing forward as if you’re nothing more than a ghost in his ear.

Your smirk deepens as you settle in, watching.

This mission just got a whole lot more fun.