Assigned by Station Chief Kate Laswell, Case Officer Kiera Dutton is assigned to track and locate the missing American missiles as well as the threat of Quds Force Major Hassan Zyani. Befriending Ghost during her missions was not indeed part of her...
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I clutched my M4 in my left hand as Soap and I exited the plane to our assigned destination – Las Almas, Mexico. Never once have I had a good memory in Mexico. In fact, I hated it. Hated everything about it, and I let one horrible memory ruin the experience for me. 2006 was the worst year of my life, going into 2007 with traumatic post-stress and severe anger problems. Manual Roba. Fuck, that name made my chest ache and phantom pain spread across my lower ribcage.
Failed brainwashing and months of torture is all I'm going to say about it.
Likely that it would never happen again considering I killed the man myself, I forced myself to think of my assignment ahead to keep my anxiety at bay. For once, I focused on Soap's social butterfly behavior, already irritated that he began making friends before we went out on a mission. "Alejandro!" He smiled at him, extending his hand out for the man to shake.
"Sergeant MacTavish." Alejandro replied, shaking his hand firmly, and I was relieved that he didn't try to shake my hand because I was in no mood to make friends, nor was I in the mood to talk. I was an observer, not a talker.
"Call me Soap."
Then, Alejandro's interest turned to me, looking me up and down as if I was a potential threat because of my face covering, and if that's what it took to keep my identity hidden, then so be it. I was here for one task: to find this terrorist, not make friends or take part in small talk. "Lieutenant, Laswell says they call you Ghost."
"Actually, I think he prefers to be called—"
"That'll do!" I barked at Soap, my irritation turning to full on anger when he said that. I didn't know what he was going to say, but he should've known better, but here he was pushing my buttons like he always did.
Why couldn't the old man send Garrick with me?
Alejandro breathed a laugh at the sudden awkwardness, "Welcome to the city of souls."
Well, isn't that fitting?
"I've never been to Mexico." Soap commented as we followed Alejandro towards a fleet of vehicles.
"This isn't México, this is Las Almas."
Same bloody difference.
"Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringing hardware. They'll need room." I informed him.
"My base is your base."
"Good. Now, where's Hassan?"
"Cartel safe house ten klicks from here. Get in."
I huffed when I tried to take a deep breath through my mask, setting my M4 between my knees as I continued to eye my surroundings. I couldn't trust anybody, especially in a country that I despised the most due to my past, I couldn't help the morbid thought of being put through the same thing again rising into my consciousness. Except this time, I was far more prepared to protect myself and Soap if I needed to. Even if the bloke did get on my nerves 99.9% of the time, he was still a partner on my team, and he was on my watch. If he couldn't fight back, then I'd fight for him. "This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra." Alejandro introduced him, the grip on the steering wheel tightening when he saw my appearance through the rear-view mirror.
