Task Force Orion Headquarters – London
0940 Hours
Ghost didn't wait for clearance.
The moment the helicopter touched down on the landing pad, he ripped off the medical oxygen mask, shoved the medic's hands away, and jumped onto the tarmac. He was limping—one rib cracked, maybe two—but every step was driven by the same burning thought repeating in his skull:
Rook is alive.
Rook is Dominion.
And Command lied.
The base was a sprawling underground fortress disguised beneath a nondescript logistics building in the outskirts of London. Steel doors, biometric scanners, uniformed soldiers moving with cold precision—it smelled of secrets.
Ghost marched across the corridor, his boots pounding against the reinforced floor. He ignored the stares, the hushed whispers.
Everyone knew who he was.
Everyone feared the mask.
Even broken, cracked, and burned around the edges, it still carried weight.
A young officer stepped in his path.
"Sir, you need to report to medical—"
Ghost brushed past him. "Out of my way."
"But sir—"
Ghost turned his head slightly. The officer froze.
The skull on Ghost's mask stared at him—split with a crack from Rook's blow, one eye socket damaged, the paint blackened around the edges.
"Understood…" the officer muttered, stepping aside.
Ghost continued.
A pair of blast doors hissed open at his approach, revealing the central command hub—Task Force Orion's nerve center. Dozens of analysts sat behind massive screens streaming intel feeds, satellite overlays, intercepted chatter, and real-time battlefield updates.
Above them all, standing at the briefing platform, was Colonel Sarah Ward.
She looked up the moment she sensed the shift in the room's air—Ghost's presence always changed something, like a cold wind slipping into a furnace.
"Ghost," she said. "You look like hell."
Ghost walked straight up to her. "Rook."
Ward's expression didn't change. "Rook is dead."
Ghost dropped a charred Dominion insignia onto the table.
"He's not."
Ward stared at the symbol. A single muscle twitched near her eye.
"Explain," she said.
Ghost's voice was flat. "He attacked me."
Silence swept the room like a freezing wave. Every analyst stopped typing. Every screen seemed suddenly too loud.
Ghost continued, "He's alive. Leading Dominion forces. Enhanced tech. Same voice. Same movements. Same scar on his left shoulder—right through the armor."
Ward exhaled. Slowly.
Ghost had never seen her rattled.
Until now.
"You're absolutely certain?"
Ghost stared through her. "I watched him die. I buried him. And tonight he almost broke my ribs again."
Ward closed her eyes briefly, then motioned Ghost to follow her into a private debriefing chamber. The door sealed behind them with a heavy mechanical thud.
The room was small, dimly lit, walls lined with classified files and encrypted screens. Ward walked toward a reinforced safe embedded into the wall.
She pressed her palm to the biometric reader. A soft hiss. The door opened.
Ghost saw a black case inside.
Ward pulled it out, placed it on the table, and opened it.
Inside were files marked:
UNIT ZERO
CLASSIFIED – OMEGA LEVEL
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL: 1
Ghost frowned. "What is this?"
Ward looked at him—really looked—and Ghost saw something he wasn't used to seeing in officers.
Fear.
"Simon… Rook isn't the only thing Command hid from you."
Ghost's jaw tightened. "Start talking."
Ward opened the first file.
Three Years Ago – The Mission That Killed Them
Unit Zero.
The world's most elite black-ops team. A squad that operated in shadows so dark even intelligence agencies of allied nations didn't know they existed.
Rook.
Ghost.
Mantis.
Viper.
Stone.
Havoc.
Brothers and sisters in arms.
Ghost's chest tightened as he saw photos of each of them, alive, younger, smiling in that hardened soldier way—like they had already made peace with death.
Ward pointed to the mission dossier.
"This is the operation that was supposed to retrieve a stolen AI core called Project Starlance."
Ghost stiffened. "We weren't told that."
"I know," Ward replied. "Because the mission file you received was fake."
Ghost's eyes narrowed behind the cracked mask.
Ward continued:
"Starlance wasn't just any AI system. It was the first military-grade predictive warfare intelligence. It could forecast battlefield outcomes, anticipate enemy movements, detect ambushes… even influence them."
Ghost's pulse quickened. "So they built a machine to choose who lives and dies."
"And someone stole it," Ward said gravely. "We believe Rook."
Ghost felt the floor tilt under him.
Ward added, "Unit Zero wasn't sent to retrieve Starlance. You were sent to confirm whether Rook had defected."
Ghost stared at her. "So we were bait."
"Yes," Ward said quietly. "And Command didn't expect any of you to return."
Ghost's fists tightened. The gloves creaked.
"Say it plainly," he growled.
Ward met his eyes. "Command sent you to die. To erase Unit Zero quietly. To cover the existence of Starlance."
Ghost's blood went cold. "And when Rook survived… they tried to finish him."
Ward nodded. "He disappeared before they could. We assumed he died."
Ghost shook his head. "He didn't. He rebuilt something worse."
Ward didn't argue.
Instead, she brought up another file—photos of destroyed bases, burnt-out cities, anti-air systems disabled with impossible precision.
All of it matching Starlance-level capabilities.
Ghost whispered, "So Dominion… is Starlance."
Ward nodded. "And Rook enhanced himself with it."
Ghost's stomach sank like a stone dropped into the ocean.
Rook wasn't just alive.
He wasn't just leading Dominion.
He had a weapon that could predict Ghost's every move.
Ghost stepped back from the table.
His voice was low, cold, dangerous.
"You knew Command killed my team."
Ward shook her head. "I found out afterward. I wasn't in the chain then. I tried to blow the whistle. They buried me instead."
Ghost didn't ask why she risked showing him this now. He already knew.
Rook was bigger than Command. Bigger than any nation.
He was a threat to the world.
Ward closed the files. "I'm assembling a new strike team for this operation."
Ghost didn't respond. He was staring at Rook's photograph… the one taken before everything went wrong.
Ward continued, "If Rook is truly alive and leading Dominion, then you're the only one who can predict him."
Ghost looked up slowly. "He's not the Rook I knew."
"No," Ward agreed. "But he remembers you. That makes you the only soldier he won't underestimate."
Ghost didn't like the truth of that.
Ward walked to another console and pressed a button.
A hologram of four operators appeared, their files glowing.
"Meet your new team," Ward said.
Ghost's eyes narrowed.
Sergeant Mara Caulder – Ex-Spetsnaz. Demolitions. Dishonorably discharged for disobeying corrupt orders.
Corporal Luis Ortega – CIA Extraction Specialist. Expert in infiltration and escape. Former prisoner of cartel warlords.
Lieutenant Kade Bishop – Australian SAS. Sniper. Survived a classified deep-black operation that killed his entire unit.
Dr. Hana Lee – AI Forensics. Only known expert who once worked on the original Starlance before it was stolen.
"They're all deadweight," Ghost said without emotion.
Ward's eyebrows rose. "They're the best I could find."
"They're alive," Ghost replied. "That's the problem."
Ward almost smiled. Almost. "You'll train them. They'll follow you."
Ghost shook his head. "They'll follow anyone wearing this mask. Doesn't mean they're ready."
Ward stepped close, lowering her voice.
"Simon… you faced Rook alone and survived."
Ghost looked away. "Barely."
"Barely is more than anyone else has managed."
Ghost didn't argue.
Ward pressed a final command. The holograms vanished.
"Get cleaned up," she said. "You meet the team in one hour."
Ghost turned to leave.
"Simon," Ward called.
Ghost paused.
Ward's voice softened. "This isn't revenge. This is prevention."
Ghost didn't respond.
He walked out, boots echoing down the steel corridor.
Forty Minutes Later – Ghost's Quarters
Ghost stood before a mirror, staring at the cracked skull mask lying in his hands.
The fissure through the left eye socket was deep, splitting the bone-white paint like a scar across a face.
He touched it gently.
Rook had cracked it with his bare hand.
Ghost remembered the way Rook moved—too fast, too precise. Enhanced.
Ghost lifted the mask to his face and pressed it on. The interior sealed with a soft click.
He looked at himself.
He didn't see a man.
He didn't see a soldier.
He saw a symbol.
A symbol Rook had once understood better than anyone.
And now Rook was tearing the world apart with that same understanding.
Ghost strapped on his upgraded gear—reinforced plates, ballistic-weave undersuit, new tactical harness. He holstered his sidearm, checked his knife, loaded his rifle.
Then he stepped out.
Briefing Room – 1100 Hours
The four operators were already waiting.
Mara Caulder leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. Her shaved undercut and cold steel eyes gave her an aura of someone who'd seen death and laughed at it.
Luis Ortega sat at the table, flipping a pen between his fingers smoothly—too smoothly. Hands that had escaped too many cages.
Kade Bishop was cleaning his sniper rifle meticulously, barely acknowledging the room around him.
And Dr. Hana Lee stood stiffly, glasses sliding down her nose, out of place among killers but silent, focused, determined.
Then Ghost walked in.
The room fell silent instantly.
The skull mask held power.
Not mystic power.
Psychological power.
People feared what they couldn't see.
Ward stepped forward. "Team, this is Ghost. He will be leading the operation."
Mara snorted. "Looks more like a mascot."
Ward didn't bother correcting her.
Ghost stepped toward Mara.
"Name?" he asked.
"Mara Caulder. And I don't take orders from ghosts."
In one movement, Ghost grabbed her wrist, twisted, and slammed her into the table. Her knife clattered to the floor.
Mara hissed but didn't cry out.
Ghost released her.
"You do now," he said.
Luis's eyebrows shot up. Kade smirked. Dr. Lee took a step back.
Mara stood slowly, rubbing her wrist. "Do that again," she growled, "and I'll take your mask."
Ghost stared at her. "Try."
Ward clapped sharply. "Enough. Sit."
They obeyed.
Ward pressed a button. A hologram of a fortified compound appeared—mountains, anti-air towers, drone swarms patrolling the perimeter.
"This," Ward said, "is Dominion Outpost Sigma."
Ghost's eyes narrowed.
"Rook?" he asked.
Ward nodded. "This is where he's hiding. This is where we start."
The room fell cold.
Ghost's fingers tightened around the table edge.
He whispered, "Rook… I'm coming for you."