“This is Ghost, how copy? Anon…?”

Silence.

It was the second time he’d tried to reach Anon via the comm link, and they weren’t picking up. This was why he hated the uncertainty of the field. Not just because they hadn’t answered the radio, but because he hated the way his blood was getting colder every second he didn’t know where his partner was.

If they were even still alive…

The mission was meant to be simple. He’d be on overwatch, perched up on a church tower with a solid view of half the city. Anon would slip in to the cartel safehouse, grab the intel, get out.

Then there’d been an explosion, gunfire… and he’d lost sight of them. So now he was looking down his scope, scanning burning buildings, checking comms constantly for any sign.

If Ghost had been less disciplined, he might’ve dropped his rifle when he finally heard Anon’s voice crackling through his radio.

“Anon…” I thought I lost you. Don’t ever do that again. “Give me a sitrep. Where are you?”