Specter's Redemption |Ghost x Reader|

The Dance Begins

The rooftop offered a commanding vantage point, a strategic perch from which the sprawling city of Las Almas unfurled before them. Task Force 141, Phillip, and Caleb stood in a calculated formation, their gazes fixed on the heart of the city where the cartel's stronghold lay.

Their vantage point offered an unobstructed view of the sprawling cartel compound. The warm glow of city lights painted an amber tapestry across the landscape, concealing the machinations of the underworld. From their lofty perch, they observed the heartbeat of the city's criminal underbelly.

This rooftop, bathed in the dim moonlight, was a nexus of fates intertwined by a common goal. Each member of this disparate assembly brought their unique strengths and perspectives to the fore. They were poised on the precipice of action, ready to plunge into the heart of the unknown.

The stage was set. At this moment, the city held its breath, unaware of the imminent clash that would unfold within its labyrinthine streets.

Ghost, as was his custom, lingered at the edge of the group, a specter in the shadows, his keen eyes absorbing every detail. Caleb, a name that had flickered briefly in (y/n)'s file, held Ghost's attention. There was a conundrum surrounding Caleb, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, at least not in Ghost's understanding.

Caleb's selection as (y/n)'s apprentice had been a curious choice, one that Ghost hadn't quite deciphered. He couldn't help but wonder what set Caleb apart, what qualities (y/n) had seen in him. There was a connection, a bond forged in shared experiences, but the full extent of it eluded Ghost.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, a silent exchange that carried a weight of its own. Caleb's furrowed brow and uneasy shift didn't go unnoticed.

Then, as if pulling away from a precipice, Caleb redirected his focus to Laswell, leaving Ghost to ponder the mysteries that surrounded the newcomer.

"On our way here, I received a message saying that (y/n) is going to be here. She made it clear to not look for her and that she would come to find us," Laswell conveyed, her tone steady. She then turned her gaze to Price, silently signaling for him to continue.

"That said, the mission does not change. We need to make contact with El Sin Nombre." Price tightened his grip on his vest straps, determination etched across his features.

Caleb's voice cut through the air, pragmatic and direct. "The only way to do that is if we give information."

"I'll go. I'm the best bet." Soap stepped forward, his resolve unwavering.

The team exchanged a series of knowing looks before nodding in unanimous agreement.

"You're going to need to tell them everything. All of it. Shadow Company, Specter, Los Vaqueros. All of it," Ghost's voice was steady.

"And you're going to need proof," Phillip stepped forward, his actions decisive as he tore off a patch from his vest and handed it to Soap, "the Shadow's insignia."

Soap accepted the patch, his expression resolute. He nodded in acknowledgment to the rest of the group.

"Alejandro and Rudy, you get Soap in and keep him safe. Ghost, provide a lookout and watch Soap. Caleb and Graves, provide overwatch. Laswell, Gaz, and I will be on standby for extraction. Keep an eye out for (y/n) but do not engage. This may be our one chance to get El Sin Nombre, find Hassan, and get (y/n) back," Price's instructions were clear and focused. Each member absorbed their role, a seamless dance of expertise and trust.

The team dispersed, each member moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine, save for Ghost.

Ghost, concealed on the rooftop, adjusted his sniper rifle, ensuring it was finely tuned for the critical role it was about to play. His steely gaze tracked Soap's movements as the seasoned operative made his way toward the imposing cartel mansion. There was a precision to Soap's stride, a blend of confidence and wariness that came from years of covert missions.