Ghosts in the Machine

After the last talk with General Marcus Bennett, know in the price of freedom and the five deployment's and targets. John and his team wasted no time and proceeded on finishing each mission.

South-East Asia – Mission 1( 2 Weeks Later)

The distant hum of rotor blades vanished into the humid night as the last of the evac helis disappeared over the mountains. Smoke still rose from the jungle basin below where a once-advanced AI research facility had been reduced to smoldering ruin — nothing but ash, embers, and charred secrets.

On a nearby ridge, the team watched the blaze in silence.

"Clean sweep," Ghost muttered, scanning the infrared readings on his visor. "No heat signatures. No survivors."

"Not even the rats," Nikolai added, wiping soot off his brow.

John stood still, hands resting on his belt, eyes fixed on the burning wreckage. "Bagged and buried. The brass should be satisfied."

Price lit a cigar, shielding the flame from the wind. "Shame, really. Heard the AI they built was smarter than half the cabinet."

Soap chuckled. "Too smart, apparently."

"The price of thinking too much," Ghost said coldly.

The team exchanged glances, half in jest, half in grim acknowledgment.

John turned and walked back toward the extraction path. "Let's move. Clock's ticking. Second target won't wait."

As they disappeared into the jungle shadows, their footprints were swallowed by ash and time.

Western Europe – Mission 2 (A Month Later)

The second mission bled out over weeks — a fortress disguised as a lab, brimming with sensors, auto-turrets, and guards who never blinked. Human-machine augments, faster than a heartbeat, stronger than steel. The infiltration required meticulous planning, double-blind routes, forged credentials, and a dozen dry runs.

On the final night, the operation was flawless — until it wasn't.

Soap lay behind a demolished support column, blood pooling around his abdomen, staining the cracked marble of the laboratory floor.

"Shit, Soap—stay with me!" Price barked, kneeling beside him and ripping his shirt open. "Ghost, medpack! Now!"

"I've got it," Ghost said, tossing the pack over.

Soap coughed, trying to laugh through the pain. "Don't worry, Cap… I ain't dying until I drink all of Nikolai's vodka…"

"You'll live to regret that," Nikolai replied, kneeling beside him to apply pressure to the wound.

John covered their rear, scanning for more augmented hostiles. None came. The C4 was already placed. The files extracted. Only the exit remained.

"Wayne!" Price shouted. "We need medevac, stat."

John tapped his earpiece. "Evac team, we're hot. Soap's wounded. Extraction in five. Marking LZ now."

He turned to Price, voice calm despite the chaos. "Get him out. I'll trigger the collapse."

"No way, we go together," Ghost growled.

"I'll handle it," John said firmly, planting the detonator. "Clock's synced."

When the dust finally settled, the lab was gone — buried beneath a collapsing skyscraper and detonated tunnels.

Oil Wastes – Mission 3 (Three Months Later)

The desert wind howled like a ghost through the war-torn oil country, sweeping dust across burned-out tanks and hollow-eyed children. For three months, the team embedded themselves deep into a crumbling world where bread was rare, but bullets were currency.

John stood on a rooftop overlooking the city's cratered skyline, watching a plume of smoke rise where their third target used to be — a WMD research lab masquerading as a refinery. It had taken them nearly a quarter of a year to plan, execute, and disappear again without a trace.

Below, Price barked orders to a group of local informants. Nikolai distributed food packs to orphaned kids who had seen too much war too young. Ghost stood watch in a bombed bell tower, sniper scope scanning the horizon. Soap — now back on his feet — was fiddling with a comms jammer they'd used to black out enemy signals.

John exhaled slowly, and talk to his skill great sage in his mind.

"Great Sage, status."

All squad members have crossed the 80% loyalty threshold. Conditions optimal for naming ceremony. Would you like to proceed?

He stared at the prompt in his vision for a long while.

Loyalty. Such a weighty word in this world.

They'd fought by his side. Killed without hesitation. Bled — even nearly died — because he asked them to. These men, once only digital legends in another life, were now flesh and blood brothers.

Price — the unshakable foundation.

Soap — the heart that never stopped beating.

Ghost — the blade in the shadows.

Nikolai — the eye in the storm.

He looked around the ruined city.

Not yet, he thought.

"Observe them longer," he murmured under his breath.

Command acknowledged. Naming postponed.

Behind him, Price stepped up.

"Thinking about something?"

John nodded. "Just the road ahead."

Price lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly. "That's three missions done. Two left."

John looked at him. "You ready for the next one?"

"Does it matter?" Price said, gazing toward the battlefield. "We've come this far. Might as well see it through."

Soap walked up, holding a makeshift antenna. "Got us full comms blackout over ten miles. We're ghosts again."

"Feels right," Ghost muttered, joining them.

Nikolai came last, tossing a pack of ration bars at John. "Eat something. You look like you've been thinking too much again."

John caught it with a slight smile.

Soap leaned on the wall beside him. "You know, I've been thinking…"

"That's rare," Ghost quipped.

Soap flipped him the finger. "No, seriously. You ever think about what comes after this? I mean… after after. No more ops. No more targets. Just… freedom."

"Freedom's a nice word," John replied. "Hard to define."

Nikolai shrugged. "Where I'm from, freedom just means no one's pointing a gun at you."

"Sometimes," Price said, "freedom's just a lie you tell yourself to sleep better."

Ghost nodded. "But we're almost there. Two more. That's what matters."

John studied their faces in the waning light. They weren't soldiers anymore. They were more than that. A family forged by fire.

But still… not yet.

He turned, gripping the edge of the rooftop.

"Get ready," he said. "We move in two days."

The team nodded.

One Year Later – Somewhere in the Arctic Circle

Snow whipped across the landing zone as the team disembarked their stealth VTOL. A massive white void stretched before them — their fourth mission looming beneath the frozen crust of the Arctic.

Price pulled his scarf tighter around his face. "Feels like hell just froze over."

Soap grinned. "Good. Means it's our turn to raise the heat."

"Ghost, you got thermals running?" John asked.

"Always. Nothing alive within 2 klicks."

Nikolai cracked his neck. "I brought extra C4."

John smiled faintly. Good. They're ready.

As they trudged forward, leaving a trail in the untouched snow, John tapped his temple again. The loyalty bar flickered faintly.

Still over 80%. Still consistent. Still growing.

Would you like to proceed with the naming ceremony?

John stared at the prompt again.

Almost. But not yet.

He would wait — just a little longer.

Not until the job was done.

Not until they were free.

Not until the ghosts became legends with names of their own.