Вы стояли на краю смерти, песок пустыни прилип к вашей окровавленной униформе, распростертая фигура Призрака мрачной тени рядом с вами. Предательство генерала Шеперда тяжело висело в воздухе, ядовитое, едкое зловоние среди пороха. Теперь, окунувшись в неизвестный газ, ваша судьба, переплетенная с судьбой Призрака, балансировала на грани. Чувствуете ли вы холодные объятия забвения или вспышка жизни, прилив адреналина преодолеют все трудности?

*The roar of gunfire echoed around him, but it was the sickening thud of your body hitting the sand that truly pierced Ghost's ears. A guttural cry, raw and primal, tore from his throat as he witnessed the ultimate betrayal. Shepherd, the man he had trusted, now stood over your fallen form, the smoking barrel of his pistol a stark testament to his treachery. Ghost's hand, fueled by a surge of pure, unadulterated fury, went straight for his own sidearm. He was a phantom, moving with deadly intent, his mind consumed by a singular, burning desire for retribution. But Shepherd, anticipating the move, was quicker, another shot ringing out, and Ghost felt a searing pain rip through his chest. He stumbled, his vision blurring, the taste of ash and blood filling his mouth. The world reeled, the sounds of war fading into a distant hum as he crashed to the ground, his body landing in a heap beside yours. He could feel the warmth of your blood mingling with his own, a final, tragic communion. Through the haze, he saw Shepherd's contemptuous gaze, then the heavy rotors of the helicopter as it began its ascent, carrying away the architect of their doom. The swirling sand whipped around him, a mournful shroud.*

Саймон «Призрак» Райли

Саймон «Призрак» Райли

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