Afghanistan – Abandoned Refinery Complex
0402 Hours
Ghost didn't move.
Couldn't move.
The man standing ten meters away was a shadow carved into reality—tall, lean, wrapped in tactical armor that looked too sleek, too advanced for desert warzones. But the face… or rather, the lack of it… was what froze Ghost.
A mask—smooth, matte-black, emotionless.
But Ghost didn't need to see the man's face.
He knew the posture, the gait, the subtle tilt of the head.
"Rook…" Ghost breathed.
The name scraped out like broken glass.
Rook.
Second-in-command of Unit Zero.
The man Ghost had dragged from burning rubble three years ago.
The man who'd sworn an oath to never abandon their brothers.
The man whose body Ghost had personally zipped into a black bag.
Dead.
Buried.
Gone.
Ghost wasn't a believer in miracles.
But he knew a ghost when he saw one.
"Good to see you're still breathing, Simon," Rook said, voice filtered through a metallic modulator. Calm. Taunting. "I was worried the desert would've eaten you alive."
Ghost tightened his grip around his rifle. "You're supposed to be dead."
Rook took a step forward. The sand didn't crunch under his boots—silent movement, like he wasn't walking on earth at all.
"And you're supposed to be smart," Rook replied. "Yet here you are, still letting the past choke you."
Ghost raised his weapon. "Take off the mask."
Rook tilted his head. "Why? So you can see the face you left behind? The face you abandoned to die?"
Ghost didn't blink. "You died in my arms."
"Did I?" Rook asked softly. "Or did you just stop looking?"
Silence pressed against the air, heavy and suffocating.
Ghost steadied his breathing—slow inhale, slower exhale. His training took over, forcing calm into the tremor beneath his ribs.
"Why are you with Dominion?" Ghost growled.
Rook chuckled beneath the mask—a low, cold sound. "Dominion? Oh, Simon… you still think small. Dominion isn't who I serve." He spread his arms as if presenting an invisible kingdom. "Dominion serves me."
A cold spike knifed into Ghost's spine.
"You're leading them…"
"I'm leading much more than that," Rook said. "But let's not ruin the surprise."
Ghost's finger brushed the trigger. He wouldn't hesitate. Not anymore.
But Rook raised a hand. "Before you shoot—and you will try—answer me one thing."
Ghost said nothing.
"Did they tell you what we were really hunting that night? The night Unit Zero died?"
Ghost's jaw clenched. Memories flooded back—gunfire, screams, the burning building, the intel they were ordered to retrieve but never saw. The mission brief that felt wrong. The ambush that felt too perfect.
"You don't know, do you?" Rook asked with dark satisfaction. "They sent us there as bait."
Ghost's heart thudded once, hard.
Rook continued: "Unit Zero wasn't wiped out by enemy forces. We were erased by command."
Ghost's breath caught.
"They used us," Rook whispered. "Sacrificed us. And when I lived… barely… they tried to finish the job."
Ghost shook his head. "You're lying."
Rook stepped closer. "Am I? Then why are your files sealed under Omega clearance? Why is every survivor listed as KIA—even you?"
Ghost didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Still think you're on the right side?" Rook asked. "Still think Command wants you alive?"
Ghost exhaled slowly. "Your story's missing something."
Rook tilted his head. "Oh?"
"Why slaughter innocent bases?" Ghost said. "Why burn cities? Why turn yourself into a terrorist if you're so righteous?"
Rook chuckled again. "Because peace is a lie, Simon. Because nations only listen when blood paints their doorstep. Because I gave them a chance to change the world, and they spat in my face."
His voice hardened like steel.
"So now I'll tear it down and rebuild it myself."
Ghost steadied his rifle. "Then you're just another tyrant."
"Maybe." Rook paused. "But at least I'm honest about it."
Ghost pulled the trigger.
The bullet flew—
—but Rook was already gone.
A whisper slid behind Ghost's ear:
"Still too slow."
Ghost spun, but a boot slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet. Sand flew. He rolled, stabilized his rifle, and fired again—three-round burst.
Rook ghosted between the shots.
His movements were impossible.
Not natural.
Enhanced.
"What did you do to yourself?" Ghost snarled, rising to a low stance.
Rook tapped his armor. "Let's just say Dominion technology is… persuasive."
He lunged.
Ghost blocked the first strike, barely. The second hit his ribs with bone-cracking force. Ghost felt the armor absorb most of it, but not enough. Pain rippled through him.
"Still human," Rook observed. "Disappointing."
Ghost ducked a punch, grabbed Rook's wrist, twisted, and threw him into a pipeline. Metal shook. Sand rained.
Ghost aimed—but Rook grabbed the barrel and yanked, slamming Ghost's own rifle into his mask. Ghost staggered back.
Rook's voice dripped amusement. "You've improved. I'll give you that."
Ghost wiped blood from his mouth. "You talk too much."
He rushed forward.
Their fists collided—steel against bone, bone against steel. Sparks flew from reinforced knuckles. Ghost slammed an elbow into Rook's throat, then swept his leg. Rook fell to a knee.
Ghost seized the moment—knife drawn, blade aimed for the gap beneath the mask.
But Rook caught Ghost's wrist mid-strike.
"Always the predictable one," Rook whispered.
He twisted. Ghost's knife clattered across the sand.
Rook leaned close. Ghost could see his own reflection in the black visor.
"This isn't our fight tonight," Rook said. "Not yet."
He shoved Ghost back and tapped a device on his wrist. A chime echoed through the refinery.
Ghost recognized the sound instantly.
Detonation sequence.
Ghost sprang forward—
but Rook was already retreating into the shadows.
"Find the truth, Simon," Rook called. "If you dare."
Then he was gone.
Ghost raced across the sand, scanning for the explosive. He spotted the blinking charge strapped to a decaying support beam.
"Command," Ghost barked, "Rook is alive. Dominion is compromised. Refinery's rigged—send evac immediately!"
"Ghost, repeat?" Command responded. "Rook? Alive?"
"No time—SEND. EVAC."
He ripped the charge off the beam and hurled it deep into the empty pit beside the refinery.
The explosion hit like a hammer. The shockwave launched Ghost backward, slamming him into a rusted pipeline.
Darkness smeared at the edges of his vision.
His mask was cracked.
His chest burned.
His ears rang.
But he stayed conscious.
Barely.
Dust clouded the sky as debris rained down.
Ghost groaned, forcing himself to sit. His vision flickered.
Through the smoke, he saw Rook's figure watching from the far dunes—a silhouette against the moon.
Then Rook raised a hand in a mock salute…
…and vanished into the night.
Fifteen minutes later
Helicopter rotors cracked the air as a black-ops chopper descended. Two medics rushed out, hauling Ghost into the cabin.
"Jesus, what happened?" one asked.
Ghost didn't answer.
He held the broken piece of his mask between his fingers.
Rook's voice echoed in his mind:
Find the truth, Simon. If you dare.
Ghost closed his eyes.
"Take me to Ward," he said. "Now."
The chopper rose into the sky, leaving the burning refinery behind.
Ghost didn't look back.
He knew this was just the beginning.