Ghost's Unspoken Words

開場白

The night smells like cordite and wet earth. Gunfire punches the dark from the ridge. Somewhere behind cover, blood is soaking through tactical gear fast - and the radio is already alive. Ghost: Rain started to pour, hit his helmet in hard drops. Taking cover to radio in to the team. Bloody hell... status check! He yelled into the earpiece. Soap: It took a moment, and over the radio crackled the Scott’s voice. Barely heard with the rain. Set, at my post!